


Far From Home

by ImaMePanda



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: A really hard headed sweetheart, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Big Brothers, Corner-Time, Corporal Punishment, Crack Treated Seriously, Discipline, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, JD & Ezra Friendship, JD is a sweetheart, Lonely Ezra, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Spanking, Papa Bear Josiah, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Older Brothers, Protective Seven, Protective Siblings, Spanking, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Team as Family, dimension hopping, such crack, trapped in au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9534272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaMePanda/pseuds/ImaMePanda
Summary: Ezra wakes up in a world that is almost identical to his own, the same people, the same places, yet at the same time is utterly alien. How is he to find his way home when he can't even tell anyone he's lost? Crack!Fic taken seriously, based off a prompt from spanking world LJ, so contains spanking, don't like, don't read. ATF AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt at spanking_world livejournal

 Ezra didn't even have to try not to stare anymore, hurrying up the street with his coffee. Not at the young woman unceremoniously tugged over her companion's knee at the bus stop, his hand laying down a rapid staccato of swats on the seat of her jeans. Or at the man who must have been at least forty turning from an argument with a woman who was old enough to be his mother, and from the look of her may well have been, sliding his belt from his jeans and handing it to her, then bracing himself against the side of a building as she first tugged his jeans down in the back and then laid six healthy smacks on his backside. When you saw something upwards of ten times a day it rapidly lost its novelty.

A week and a day ago, when he woke up in what he had first thought was a world gone mad, and had quickly become convinced was some sort of separate world all together (or that _he_ had been the one to go mad, but that implied his subconscious had dreamt all this up, and he wasn't even going there), he had noticed. He had gawked and stared, and actually gotten himself threatened with a “good hiding” from a gentleman who had not appreciated his gaze. Since said gentleman had just been over a lap himself it had been even more confusing than it might have been.

A week and a day ago, when he'd walked into Team Seven's office and seen JD bare bottomed and wailing over Buck's knee, Ezra had been shocked and furious, even after what he'd seen on the news that morning, and in his walk to and from Starbucks after he parked the Jag. He hadn't known what was going on, had been half convinced he was still asleep, both before and after entering the office, but he'd been certain there was no need for young Mr. Dunne to be treated like that. He'd opened his mouth to demand Buck release him when Josiah's heavy hand had fallen on his shoulder, voice clearly meant to be soothing as he said, “It ain't anything to do with the prank war, if that's what you were thinking, I wouldn't let him be punished for something we've all been involved with. Even if that itching powder was a bit too far. Boy rode to work on that death machine of his without a helmet again.” Mr. Sanchez had squeezed his shoulder then, clearly thinking he had known what Ezra was upset about and fixed it, moving off to his desk serenely. Ezra, still severely confused, had retreated to his own desk and the familiarity of his paperwork.

Lord knew he'd heard Buck threaten JD -“I'll tan your hide right off, and I mean it!” when the boy had pulled that stunt before, but he'd never actually done it, had never _actually_ meant it. At the most JD would receive a tongue lashing and perhaps a harder than usual smack upside the head. Once, when he'd done it twice in one week, Ezra had noticed he'd ridden into work with Buck for the rest of that week, and the next as well, and though no one had made mention of it, it was obviously a punishment. Honestly, if Buck had decided to apply that single smack to a lower portion of the young man's anatomy, in an effort to make him understand the seriousness of his actions, Ezra would not have objected, might have applauded if it had gotten JD to stop his foolish behavior. This was not that. He cringed as one final resounding slap was applied, Buck tugging back up JD's garments and flipping the boy over in his lap, cuddling him to his chest, all forgiven, as he stroked his hair and talked quietly to him. A strange tugging feeling invaded Ezra's own chest and with a frown he'd turned back to his paperwork. At least it seemed the job itself had been the same, Ezra having gone undercover with the same group of local drug runners, local but big time, and the bust had gone down perfectly.

His Chris-he'd already started to separate the two realities in his head, it was all simply too strange-had not entirely agreed, had had a few choice words for Ezra about 'not risking his fool neck' and 'no need to be a hero' and a few other things, all liberally sprinkled with expletives. It had been only last Thursday it had gone down, less than a week, and Mr. Larabee was still growling when he saw him. As he read over his report an addition on the bottom had him wrinkling his brow, a simple line, “Senior Agent Larabee felt it necessary to administer discipline at the conclusion to this case. Description on addendum D.” His heart sinking, praying his face wasn't as red as it felt, but unable to stifle his curiosity Ezra flipped to addendum D, horror growing as he read it.

Apparently the other Chris had felt the need to take his Ezra-he, he reminded himself had not been spanked since he was about twelve, and hopefully it would stay that way-over his knee in much the same way Buck had JD. Only, after seeing his subordinate nearly shot right in front of him he had not waited until they were back in the relative privacy of the office, instead, as soon as the scene was clear and Nathan had given him a once over, he'd taken his undercover agent's pants down and proceeded to blister his hide thoroughly, complete with a few stripes from his belt at the end. Even though it hadn't been him it had happened to as he read the description the humiliation burned through Ezra like there was fire and ice in his veins at the same time.

It was obvious that in whatever weird alternative universe he had landed in-and never would he have thought JD's rambles about sci-fi and comic book worlds would actually have given him useful information-this was perfectly normal treatment, but a lifetime of being singled out, ridiculed, and made an example of made it hard for Ezra to truly swallow that idea. Though seeing Vin getting pushed out of Chris's office with a swat to his behind, both men laughing, did do a certain amount to normalize it.

Ezra made a hasty flight to the bathroom, pulling out his smartphone once he was safely ensconced in a stall and doing a google search he certainly never would have imagined doing before-“Adult Spanking”. It proved fruitful, the porn he would have expected to dominate hardly appearing at all, instead a variety of historical and scientific articles on spanking taking up the majority of the results. Somehow, in this world spanking had not developed as a punishment for children, or at least it hadn't stayed that way for long. In fact, it appeared that in most of the world, including the U.S, it was highly illegal to spank anyone under the age of eighteen, though in some places it was sixteen or seventeen. This was rather relieving to Ezra, he didn't know how he would have reacted to something like that-it had been hard enough with JD, an actual child did not bear thinking about. Once someone turned eighteen however, spanking became rather the norm. The idea seemed to be that before that one was still learning right from wrong, and should be guided gently. When you became at least close to an adult, yet still broke the rules or behaved foolishly, swifter, harsher justice was required, and it appeared that this practice went back to antiquity.

Except for a few groups clearly against the custom it was just such a normal thing no one really seemed to be discussing the ramifications of it. There also did appear to be a government organization dedicated to the prevention of the abuse of this practice, with harsh penalties being applied to those who went too far, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If they were trying to prevent something that meant it was happening, an entire organization dedicated to it meant it was happening often, or at least often enough. A listing of varying laws and practices in different countries relaxed him a little-except for those in positions of authority, such as the police, a stranger could not just decide to punish someone, that was considered assault in the U.S, though he imagined the lines were very blurry, as where did the line between stranger and acquaintance, or acquaintance and friend, land? The general rule seemed to be just that you had to know the person, if not family, to at least work with or otherwise be a part of their daily life. Better than it could have been, he supposed, but it was still ripe with the possibility of abuse. 

Wondering why society couldn't have chosen literally _anything_ else, Ezra was planning on looking up crime statistics and seeing if there was any change that could potentially be correlated to this vast social difference, when there was a knock on his stall door and Nathan's voice carrying in after him, “Ezra, you sick?” Startled, not because Nathan was asking after his health, that was one strand of normal in the pile of straws he was trying to grasp, but because he hadn't heard him enter the room, and slipping like that was just unacceptable, he took a moment to answer.

“Ah'm fine Nathan.”

A disgruntled hmm, then a slightly suspicious voice saying, “Are you sure? You've been in here a long time, Ez, and you've been pale all morning.” It was so normal, so something his Nathan would say, that he almost wanted to cry. Ezra was not one to share his problems or feelings unless forced, something that he knew frustrated Josiah endlessly, but he ordinarily had the option. He would never have done it, but he  _could_ have talked to his Nathan, and he could not talk to this man, this stranger who he didn't even know. He thrust a fist to his mouth, physically trying to push back the sob that was threatening to escape, finally able to swallow it down and drag out an answer.

“Mah morning bagel isn't sitting quite right, but it's nothing.”

“Well, alright. Anything changes,” Nathan speak for 'when you want to tell me the truth', and Ezra flinched, “you just let me know, you hear?”

“Of course, Mistah Jackson.” Nathan had left then, and Ezra had sagged, not sure how he was going to do this. It likely would have been far easier if he had gone crazy. After a minute or two of just breathing, he left the bathroom, settling back down at his desk. A quick check of first local and then national crime statistics left him disappointed. While it seemed that relatively minor crimes were showing at a lower average across the board, things like vandalism, disturbing the peace, even auto theft, major crimes, particularly violent ones, looked to be largely the same.

One would think that something good could have come out of this...strange custom, but no, that would have been too good to be true.

Going back to his report, Ezra finished proof-reading it, ignoring addendum D entirely, printed it out, and got up to collect it, wondering if he dared take it to Chris in his office. His version of Mr. Larabee could be intimidating enough, considering this other version was apparently willing to hit him Ezra would much rather stay quite far away, and decision made, he sat himself down at his desk. Mr. Tanner discreetly nudged Ezra's ankle with his foot, hissing, “Ya done with your report?” at him, and another little piece of normal fell into place as Ezra moved to help Vin finish up.

He could do this. It would be hard, and quite likely painful, in a literal sense, but what other choice did he have? He was Ezra P. Standish, and he did not give up, and he did not admit defeat. Once he was done helping Vin, Ezra picked his own report up and went to knock on Chris's office door, entering with his best casual poker face on at his barked, “Come in.”

“Ah have mah report finished for you, Mr. Larabee,” His voice sounded almost too casual, too purposefully laid back, even to his own ears, and Chris grunted, tossing him a ghost of a smile, but Ezra noticed that his eyes flicked upwards as well, even as the rest of him didn't move, and he was furious with himself for that loss of control, that he'd let him realize he wasn't at his best. He knew better, and didn't even want to think about what his mother would have said if she'd seen him. Ezra stepped forward and laid the report in the inbox tray, but before he could pull his hand back Chris's hand had closed around his wrist stopping him. “Mr. Larabee?”

“It's over, Ezra. You screwed up, we dealt with it, it's over. Got it?” Ezra wasn't sure if the matter of fact words of forgiveness were more shocking, or the gentle squeeze on his wrist, Chris not letting go until Ezra had nodded. Chris had gone back to his paperwork then, Ezra going to leave, when Chris's usual gruff tone stopped him for a moment, “Oh, and today was the second time you've been late this week. It's Tuesday. Happens again and we'll _deal_ with that, got it?” Ezra had stammered out a yes and fled at top speed, sure Mr. Larabee was smirking behind him. 

Sitting at his desk, Ezra thought about the possibility of his Chris forgiving him for such an act in less than a week. There would be some measure of it, after the inevitable blistering lecture, Chris wouldn't shun him or ignore him the way Mo-well, the way others had, but there would have been a stiffness there, his anger and disappointment still evident. He had no doubt that his Mr. Larabee considered Ezra on thin ice, and would for at least another few days, maybe longer. Here he had been forgiven, even been reassured that it was so.

Perhaps that was the point, the benefit of this.

That had been a week and a day ago, and until today he'd managed to avoid more than the odd handful of swats(Nathan had not appreciated Ezra skipping lunch last Thursday, not after he'd stupidly admitted he hadn't eaten breakfast either, but the knots that kept forming in his stomach made it hard to eat. It would have been much smarter just to choke down the sandwich he'd dumped on his desk with a glare, rather than waiting until Nathan wasn't looking and secreting it in one of his desk drawers. Until he _thought_ Nathan wasn't looking. A joke he'd made, which Ezra had found quite humorous, had earned him a swat from Josiah, who had thought it self-disparaging), though Ezra imagined he'd seen just about everyone he knew spanked, Buck twice. The man had a real knack in whatever world he was in for pushing Chris just a bit too far.

Even Josiah had earned a few swats from Nettie, when Vin had somehow managed to talk both Josiah and him into helping out with repairs around her farm and stables. The small barn, that Miz Nettie used only for 'family' horses (Ezra had been as relieved to see Chaucer residing there in this universe, as he'd been delighted to find him moved there when it happened in his), had acquired some roof damage in a recent storm, and Josiah was, of course, the man for the job. The shingles and roofing nails, and whatever else he might need for repairs had been moved out there by Casey earlier on, and as Josiah started to sort through and organize supplies, Nettie had told Vin and Ezra to come with her to get the ladder. Josiah had, Ezra had assumed jokingly, called after them, “Don't be surprised if I'm on the roof already when you get back!”

Nettie had chuckled, called back an, “Don't even think about it!”, but obviously had been taking it as seriously as Ezra had. Only then they got back with the ladder and neither Mr. Sanchez or the tools had been visible, and the sound of hammering had been coming from up above. Nettie had stalked away from them, bristling visibly as she entered the barn, and Vin and Ezra had exchanged a look, set the ladder up against the side of the barn and quickly followed after. As they entered Ezra had realized to his surprise that the roof seemed to have a trapdoor in it, now hanging open to the sky, and, with a frown, noticed that while it wasn't too far away from the hayloft it was decidedly not above it. Josiah must have had to climb the rope that was hanging from an iron ring beside the trapdoor to get through it, must have had to climb the rope in order to get the trapdoor open in the first place. Good lord, had he-had he done that while carrying all those tools and the shingles? How was that possible, even with the multiple trips he must have taken?

Vin, shaking his head in seeming disbelief, muttered to Ezra, “If either a us did somethin' like that, 'Siah would skin us alive.” Ezra had nodded with fervent conviction, no doubt of that in his mind. He rather thought a stunt like that might have gotten  _his_ Josiah to hand out a swat or two, and couldn't imagine what the man had been thinking. Nettie had whirled around, stalking back outside, Vin and Ezra barely getting out of her way, and marched to where they'd put the ladder, standing at the base of it with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. 

“Ah rather think Mr. Sanchez is about to have his own hide skinned.” Ezra had remarked sotto voce, Vin snorting appreciatively next to him.

“Josiah Sanchez! You get your behind down here, and this time, you use this ladder, you hear me?” Then she'd cut her eyes to the two of them standing there, “Don't the two of you have some wood to chop?” Not about to tempt fate, they'd quickly made their way over to the wood pile and the small lean-to behind it, trying to act like they weren't watching while doing little else. They'd been too far away to hear, but as a sheepish faced Josiah had climbed down the ladder and promptly had his ear grabbed, bent over so that Nettie could rapidly apply about seven or eight smacks with the wooden spoon she'd terrifyingly had in her apron pocket the whole time, Ezra had been certain his brain had finally had too much, as it had suddenly seemed rather normal.

Nettie cared about all of them, and while he doubted at Josiah's age he saw her as either a surrogate aunt, like Ezra-not that he would admit it under pain of death-, or a mother, like Vin, she did fill certain matriarchal roles in the strange little clan they'd built for themselves (not yours, remember, not yours-he _would_ get home, somehow, he _would_ ), and he had both blatantly disobeyed her and been reckless. Why shouldn't Miz Nettie feel entitled to correct him?

Lord, Ezra had known then that if he didn't get back to the normal world soon he wouldn't be fit for it. Now, here he was, hurrying down the street with the coffee he'd just had to have, about to be late for the third time this week, knowing that he was in for a spanking, and rather than making plans to resign or running for the hills, he just kept hurrying towards the building, head bent against the wind, almost past the parking garage, and was simply hoping the fact that he wasn't very late, only about twenty minutes, would be cause for leniency. It helped his nerves that from what he'd observed this past week an infraction of this type would only get him a relatively mild spanking, and he would not be required to divest himself of any clothing. 

Ezra had really been trying this morning, and if the barista hadn't spilled a drink everywhere, her boss annoyed enough that she willingly delayed the line further as she grabbed the young lady by the arm and proceeded to warm the back of her skirt with her standing there, facing the customers, he would have been on time. It had seemed far too harsh for such a simple mistake, something that really shouldn't have been punished at all, and Ezra had been consoled by the fact that the murmurs around him seemed to agree. By the time he'd left the customers still in the shop had been muttering that it was the boss who really needed some discipline, and perhaps they should give it to her. For once, he had understood the temptation and-

_**SCREEECCCHHH!** _ The startling sound of brakes harshly applied, rubber sticking to pavement, brought Ezra out of his reverie, and he scrambled back, almost falling as the grill of a SUV was suddenly far too close to his chest. The car came to a complete stop, and panting, fear having stolen his breath, Ezra looked up through the windshield, into the pale and increasingly furious face of A.D Travis. An A.D Travis who slammed his vehicle into park, switched off the engine and climbed out, all but roaring at him, “Ezra Standish! Didn't you hear the buzzer? Don't you have any sense at all? I could have killed you!” A distant part of Ezra knew that the vehicle hadn't been traveling nearly fast enough for that when leaving the parking garage, not unless he hit his head in a very unfortunate way upon impacting the ground, but saying so did not seem to be a wise choice. Injury would have been inevitable anyway, and thoroughly unpleasant. 

Ezra opened his mouth, to dash off some sort of explanation or excuse, knowing it wouldn't help, but before he could get out more than a syllable Travis had a hold of his ear and was using it to tuck Ezra rather unceremoniously under his arm. He'd known the man was in good shape, but surely someone in their late sixties wasn't entitled to such a swing. Five blistering swats to each of his cheeks, and, as undignified as it was, yelps were escaping him by the end, making him not want to look the A.D in the eye as he pulled him back to his feet, but not really given a choice about it. “I shouldn't have to tell a grown and capable man to pay attention to traffic signals, Agent Standish. If I see anything like this again I'll have you up to my office for a strapping, and that is not an idle threat. Understand?”

“Yes sah.” Ezra was sure his face was on fire, something like this much too much for his poker face, too far out of his experience.

“Good.” To his utter astonishment, surprising him far more than the brief spanking had, the man gently squeezed the arm he had yet to let go of, then moved it to his shoulder and did so again. “I don't like having to do that, but I will when it's necessary.” Ezra just nodded at him, face still on fire and now utterly uncertain what to do. He'd rather thought, had rather _known,_ that the A.D didn't think much of him. It was better than it had been when he was first hired, when it had been subtly made clear to him that if he hadn't promised Mr. Larabee carte blanche on picking out his team Ezra would never have made it through the door. Those days were long over, Ezra had proven his loyalty, but he'd plain and simple thought the man didn't like him. 

That, he reminded himself sharply is because,  _ your  _ A.D. Travis doesn't. 

The thought stung more than he had expected it to.

“Alright, go on, get to work. And, Standish?”

“Yes sah?”

“I'll be letting Agent Larabee know shortly.”

“Sah!” Ezra's best pleading look had no effect, the A.D merely pointing down the sidewalk to the ATF's main entrance, and disgruntled but trying not to show it, he nodded at the director, moving that way as the older man climbed back into his vehicle. Ezra hissed just once as he walked, the fabric of his trousers rubbing against his sore hindquarters, wondering just what Travis had meant by shortly. Would Chris already know by the time he was in the office? Or would A.D Travis wait until he was done with whatever business he'd been leaving to conduct and had arrived back himself?

Most importantly, if Chris didn't know by the time he got upstairs, would it be in his best interest to tell him first? If he didn't tell him would he consider it lying when he found out?

Ezra had gone into the hall bathroom Monday(Buck had announced, right after making the elevator a must unpleasant place to be, that he would be occupying theirs for awhile, grinning as the others groaned and fanned their hands in front of their faces), on his way back from a late lunch with the rest of Team Seven, and seen Kelley thoroughly lathering one of his agent's mouths with a soap covered cloth. He'd gone to retreat, and must have made a noise, because the man had looked up, chuckled, Ezra assumed at the look on his face and said, “Don't mind us, just taking care of some dishonesty.” Ezra could not have fled faster if he'd tried. He didn't know if Mr. Larabee had a similar policy on falsehoods, but he had no desire to find out anytime soon.

Entering the building, Ezra headed for the nearest elevator, having to skirt around Team 10's rookie getting it from one of the security guards, and was quickly inside it and pressing the door close button before anyone could appear to join him. Once he was sure he was in complete privacy Ezra took a moment to try and rub the last of the sting out of his sore rump. He shifted a bit as the realization that that effort would be rendered completely futile once he reached the office popped into his head, wondering again if he should come clean or wait and see what befell him.

After all, there was a chance the A.D would not be returning to the office today, and might contact Chris over the phone about it, this evening. If he had the whole night to cool down, perhaps it would not be so bad...

As the elevator doors opened Ezra's face paled, Chris standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, feet set wide, and if he'd had anywhere to run to he would have run. He only kept himself from leaping for the close door button by an effort of will, no doubt that if he attempted to do so, let alone succeeded in closing the elevator, Chris would make him regret it immensely. “Hello, Mr. Larabee.” His voice had not wavered, Ezra was sure of it, it hadn't.

“It's hard enough to know I might have to deal with you being killed on the job, I'm _not_ going to put up with you dying because you can't look both ways!” It was more of a snarl than anything, and Ezra was frozen, part of his thoughts insisting that death had not been a possibility and he should make sure Mr. Larabee knew that, but mostly he was just frozen. Then the team leader moved, yanking him out of the elevator by the scruff of his neck and dragging him down the hall, keeping up a lecture that Ezra hoped he wasn't expected to remember, because all he could think about was that his ability to sit comfortably was about to be removed for the foreseeable future and _how was any of this happening_. As Mr. Larabee opened the door to Team Seven's office, pushing Ezra in front of him to his private office, he chanced a peek at the bullpen, seeing that everyone but Josiah was very busy with whatever they were doing, not looking up at all. Josiah was looking right at him, face stern, and as Ezra caught his eye he shook his head censoriously and Ezra felt himself slump against Chris's hold even as he did his best to force his face to be impassive. Josiah being upset with him just made this whole thing much worse. “Inside.” Mr. Larabee was pointing in in a manner that told Ezra not to even think of arguing with him, and he hurried into the room, sucking in a breath, but not surprised at the smarting smack that seemed to be telling him to go even faster. He stood in the center of the room, not sure what to do with himself when Mr. Larabee took hold of his elbow and tugged him towards the couch along the far wall, apparently done with words for now. He settled himself in the middle of the sofa, his grip on Ezra pulling him to the man's side. Lord, somehow he'd been expecting to lay over the desk, or the arm of the sofa, not over Mr. Larabee's lap, and Ezra's face was so flushed it felt like it had flames licking at it, almost. 

Then his humiliation became complete as Chris's hands made their way to the waist band of his suit pants, and he couldn't help it, he pushed them away. “ _ Ezra Patrick _ .” Ezra froze, the shock of Mr. Larabee calling him by his first and middle name making it easy for him to bat Ezra's hands away and finish what he had started, then pull his pants down to his knees, tipping Ezra over his lap in almost the same moment. His underwear hadn't been pulled down, and Ezra felt a brief moment of hope, but then he felt them being grasped and tugged down to join his pants, and at this point his entire head should probably have been on fire from the heat he could feel. 

Chris wasted no time, and began bringing his hand down with precision, first swat falling with a resounding smack right in the center of his left buttock, Ezra having to bite back a curse, and the next all fell in a line below it, each just overlapping the one before it, not stopping until he reached the top of his thighs, and Ezra suddenly had a new found respect for Vin's pain tolerance, as after a particularly poor choice in rebellious moments, he'd seen him take three hearty whacks to the thigh from an annoyed Mr. Larabee without a sound or a grimace.

Then again, he supposed Mr. Tanner, and his own counterpart from this world, would be much more used to such treatment than he could really understand.

Mr. Larabee repeated the treatment on his other side, and it wasn't like it hurt that bad really, he'd been beaten up far worse in the past, both on the job and in life in general. It certainly didn't hurt as bad as being shot, not at all. Yet, it stung, and it wasn't stopping, and there was _nothing_ Ezra could do about it. How was he expected to just lay here and take it? Ezra didn't even realize he'd flung his hand back to shield himself until it was caught up, and tucked into the small of his back. “Enough of that.” Chris's voice was calmer than it had been, sure and steady, not exactly gentle, but far from rough, and Ezra didn't know why out of all that he was experiencing, the stinging, prickling, pain, the embarrassment at his exposure, it was that, that of all things, that would draw the first hot tears from him. He didn't sob, wouldn't let himself, but could hear that his breathing had grown rougher, that it wouldn't calm no matter what he did. He wasn't sure if Mr. Larabee had noticed or if it was just a coincidence of timing, but he pulled Ezra forward then, the swats falling both lower and faster, and to his horror he was suddenly sobbing, not loud, not hard, but sobbing all the same. Two more hard smacks, right where he sat, and just as Ezra was becoming convinced it truly was never going to end, the hand that had been holding his released it, patting at his back instead.

After a minute, his sobs slowly dying out, his clothing was righted, Chris lifting him slightly so he could pull his pants all the way up, the fabric rubbing against his backside and making him catch his breath. Mr. Larabee did not pull him onto his lap to cuddle as Buck had to JD, something Ezra wasn't sure if he was grateful for or not in that moment, instead he shifted forward, snagging the pillow from the back of the couch and as he slid out from underneath Ezra to the edge of the cushions, turning so his back was to the arm, slid it underneath his head in almost the same moment. Then the afghan that Miz Nettie had gifted Chris with two years ago was ghosting down over him, settling comfortably around his shoulders, and part of him wanted to protest that he wasn't tired, but it was certainly a more appealing idea than venturing out into the rest of the office. Leaps and bounds better than attempting to sit in his chair. He'd expected Chris to go back to his desk, but instead he stayed perched on the edge of the couch and to Ezra's amazement began carding his fingers through his hair, not saying a word. It was decidedly strange, but in a strangely nice way, and he felt himself start to slump farther into the pillow, a yawn escaping him.

Yes, this was rather pleasant, though admittedly it would be better if his arse wasn't burning. It reminded him of when he'd been recuperating at the ranch from that shot to his thigh. Ezra had developed first an infection, then a fever, and had a day there where he was wasn't quite sure where or when he was. He didn't remember most of it, which he assumed was a good thing, but he had a vague recollection of Mr. Larabee smoothing his hair back from his sweaty forehead. Yes, this was nice, even if his backside was sore, and he hadn't even had to nearly die this time-

 _No_. There was no this time, it was the first time, he had no history with this Chris, and he was _not_ the Ezra the man thought he was comforting. He was the wrong Ezra.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted _his_ Mr. Larabee.

He turned his head away, burying it in the gap between the pillow and the back of the couch, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. The carding of his hair continued for another moment, then a soft, “Alright Ez, you sleep for a bit.”, followed by the quiet sounds of the man standing and padding back across the carpet to his desk.

He just wanted to go home.

He was beginning to think it would never happen.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Once he was sure Ezra was truly asleep, about ten minutes after his breathing had evened out and gotten deeper, Chris carefully got up from his desk, not walking too softly as that was just as likely to wake the undercover agent, on alert for being snuck up on when on a job, as heavy footfalls would. In his apartment, at Josiah's or in the guest room at the ranch the man slept like a log, anywhere else and he could wake almost as quick as Vin, and Chris wanted him to sleep for a good long while. He kept his pace calm and steady as he headed for the door.

He worried about all his men, more than they knew, sometimes for different reasons, but the worry was the same. With Ezra, who was so often away, in situations where he could and had been hurt in the past...while he slept better when he knew all his agents were at home, in their own beds.

Much as he complained about them filling the place up, Chris slept best when they were all packed into the ranch, both guest rooms full and the couches in the living room and den being fought over. Even if it meant he sometimes got woken up at two in the morning by a food fight, like at the last team weekend. He'd expected to find Vin and JD, Nathan though, he had been a surprise. He hadn't had the heart to hand out more than a swat or two before he'd made them clean up their mess and sent them back to bed. Nathan was so serious most of the time, they all forgot he was only 29, much closer in age to their youngest three then to the “old men”. Wasn't as often as he liked he got to see that grin.

When Vin had ducked and the handful of leftover mac and cheese Nathan had been tossing at him had smacked Chris in the chest it hadn't been as nice, but the horrified look on the man's face had been pretty damn funny. Walking through the row of desks towards the break room, Chris jerked his head at Josiah, getting the big man to follow him. Once they were inside, door firmly shut, Chris leaned back against the table, arms out to support him on either side, Josiah leaning against the counter opposite, an eyebrow raised in concern. “Something's wrong with Ezra.”

The older man straightened a bit, “Chris, I told you something was going on with our black sheep two days ago.” There was a definite air of-not told you so, exactly, there was no smugness, but something similar coming from the big man, and Chris nodded jerkily. He was a lot of things, but too proud to admit he was wrong wasn't one of them, not when it came to his team anyway, or at least Chris tried not to be.

He was getting better at it, anyway.

“I know. I should have listened.”

“What changed your mind?”

Chris wasn't sure how to say it, so he just said it, “I'd never say a word to the boys on how they handle a licking, b-”

“I'd certainly hope not.” There was a little growl in Josiah's voice now, a shift in posture definitely intended to remind Chris that, boss or not, Josiah was the oldest in their little makeshift family. He wasn't intimidated, he and Josiah were on an equal playing field when it came to discipline, and he hadn't done anything wrong.

“ _But_ , I still notice and pay attention. Ezra, today...he didn't fight me, didn't have a million reasons that it wasn't his fault.” Josiah straightened at this, mild concern replaced with actual worry, and Chris nodded grimly, “Even when it's been obvious he felt guilty, that's never happened before.”

“He _had_ had a shock...nearly being run over, like that.”

Chris nodded again, but he didn't think that was it, and judging from the look on Josiah's face he didn't really, either. “Maybe...but it wasn't just that. You know how hard he tries to keep from crying most of the time, it's gotten better, but the damned FBI...” He felt his own face twist in disgust, what they had done to his agent...

“The scars might not be physical...” The profiler sighed angrily, and Chris was sure he was thinking of bloody lips and palms with fingernail imprints indented so deep they were almost cuts. It had been almost two years Ezra had been with them, and that had stopped almost immediately, but Chris would never forget the first time Ezra had broken down and let himself cry, and how he'd thought-he'd thought Chris would _beat_ him for it.

Because that was what he had been expecting, whatever they'd taught him to call it. Before that Chris had just thought he wasn't much of a crier, some people weren't, and while Chris did look for signs that a punishment was being accepted, he wasn't one of those who kept it at until there were tears no matter what. The first time he'd helped him up and seen a bloody lip, he'd assumed it was pride, that he was too embarrassed to break down, and just told him there was no need for that. To find out that Ezra had been trained not to, that he'd needed that release and not been allowed it...

There was a reason that after only one case Travis had explicitly put in Team Seven's file that they were not to be paired with any FBI team out of the Atlanta office, under any circumstances, ever. It was better for the FBI's health and Travis's racquetball arm.

Chris didn't think he'd sat right for most of the next week, by far the worse strapping the A.D. had ever given him, but it had been more than worth it. Josiah, who'd been bent over the desk next to him, had wholeheartedly agreed later, when they'd been standing at the bar in Inez's saloon, downing beers and ignoring repeated jokes from Buck about why they wouldn't come sit in the booth with the rest of them. “Chris?” He shook himself, realizing that he'd never finished explaining, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Ez cried pretty easy, pretty easy and pretty hard this time. Should be a good thing, I know.”

“But it's not like him, and it worried you.” Chris said nothing, figuring he didn't have to if it was that obvious. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Doubt he'll be happy about the topic, but yeah. Keep him close?”

Josiah nodded confidently, “Been awhile since I had him over for dinner, was planning to ask him this weekend, anyway. A little early doesn't hurt. He left some overnight things last time, so we should be all set.”

“Thanks, 'Siah.”

“Don't mention it.” He dropped a hand to Chris's shoulder and squeezed lightly, “Thank you for letting me help instead of handling it all yourself.” Both praise and a subtle scolding for the fact that he usually wouldn't have, and Chris glared at Josiah who just grinned back.

*.*.*.*.*.*

Josiah squatted down next to the couch Ezra had burrowed into the back of, a soft, but worried, smile playing over his face. Ezra regularly fell asleep at the end of a punishment, not an uncommon reaction, but he generally didn't sleep for hours. “Ezra, time to wake up, son.” Nothing, so he gingerly placed a hand on Ezra's shoulder and shook him gently. The first time he'd done this, he'd gotten a fist to the face, and before he knew it an adrenaline high and still half asleep Ezra had been on the other side of the room casting about for a weapon.

It was a reasonable reaction for a undercover agent who couldn't depend on back up to come when he called for it. He still flinched sometimes, every once in awhile his hand would start to swing, but even that had been fading away slowly. Today, all Ezra did was swat idly at Josiah's hand and moan, snuggling deeper into the back of the couch, and some of the worry left his smile. “Sorry Ezra, but it's lunchtime, got to get up.” No response.

“Tell 'im if he gets his butt up now we'll let him pick one of his fancy-smancy restaurants!” Buck all but hollered, leaning in the doorway, “But if not both me and Vin are voting for Denny's.”

“Bucklin...” Josiah sighed.

“What?”

“You know it's Ezra's turn to pick anyway.” It was a Team Seven rule, and one of the signs Chris wasn't quite the hard-ass he came off as, that if someone had been punished that day and it was over, they got to pick lunch.

“Well then, my treat if he gets his butt up now, how's that? Just him though, I ain't talking about the rest of you lugs.”

Before Josiah had time to wonder about the unexpected generosity, Vin pushed his way in front of Buck, stepping on his foot and dodging an elbow to his gut in the process, “C'mon Ez, Chris won't let us go without ya, and I'm hungry enough to eat my own foot, toenails and all.”

That did get a reaction out of Ezra, who slowly rolled over, one arm moving to cover his eyes, and declared emphatically, if quietly, “Mr. Tanner that is the most disgusting thing Ah have had the misfortune to hear since the last time Ah dined with you. Once again, mah appetite has entirely departed, thanks to your masterful way with words.” Well, it certainly seemed like Ezra was in top form right now, even with his eyes still half squinted against the light. Rather, Josiah thought, with a hidden frown, like he was putting on a show.

“That better not mean you're planning on skipping lunch again Ezra, we talked about that.” Nathan scowled over Buck's shoulder at the prone figure, and Josiah frowned again, not hiding it this time.

“Ezra, have you been skipping meals?” Ezra mouthed something at Nathan that looked a lot like 'snitch' and answered his question for him. “While you're not skipping this one, c'mon, let's get up.” He hauled Ezra first into a sitting position, and then to his feet, overlooking the rather rude muttered protests coming from him as he held him up until he found his balance.

“Mr. Sanchez, Ah really am not hungry this afternoon.”

“Then you can get something light.” He pushed lightly on Ezra's lower back to get him moving, the others finally pulling back from the tangle they'd created in the doorway.

“Josiah, Ah-ow!” Josiah ignored the accusing look Ezra shot him over his shoulder and just continued to bundle the younger man along in front of him. He'd barely tapped him, and he should know by now what to expect if he argued with him over something like his health.

“No arguing, Ezra.” The audible sigh that came from the boy at that had likely been accompanied by an eye roll, Josiah chuckling as he gave him another light shove out into the hallway.

“Alright Ez, so where we headed?” Buck said, “Wherever you want, as long as you don't break my bank. And I don't have to eat snails.”

“Mr. Wilmington, Ah am not surprised that your pedestrian tastes do not enjoy the delights of es cargo-”

“But you told me you hated that stuff, Ez, that you thought half the people who ate it did, and just ate it to impress each other?”

“...Thank you for that, JD, really.”

“Were you going to try and force me to eat snails? Seriously?” Buck snorted and reached out to mess up Ezra's hair like he would JD's, but the man ducked under it, neatly sidestepping away and leveling a truly impressive glare at Buck, that was only ruined by the mischief shining in his eyes. “See if I pay for your lunch now.”

There was just a hint of an awkward pause before Ezra's next words, as though the man weren't quite sure if Buck were teasing or not, “You know, Buck, you are under no obligation to do so, as Ah did not actually rise when you offered the free meal.”

“Nah, it was close enough,” Buck darted a look at Josiah, who nodded, not liking that either. For Ezra not to jump on an offer of something free, especially an expensive lunch of his choice, was not like him at all. Josiah had seen his thumb rubbing against the cuff of his shirt sleeve for just a second too, something he knew Ezra only did when stressed, and even then, rarely, “'Sides, pretty sure I owe you a lunch from that stake out a while ago.”

“So, you were just pretending to be magnanimous? Ah should have known.” Buck snorted as Ezra pretended to tsk at him in shame, “In that case-how about Benito's?” The rest of the group made appreciative noises, including Buck, but Josiah frowned deeper. Benito's was a nice Italian restaurant, a little pricey for what it was, but with big servings and a wide variety of somewhat Americanized Italian dishes. You could get pizza there, which was probably why JD was so happy. If Ezra had been choosing where he truly wanted to go, it might have been Italian, but it wouldn't have been a family friendly restaurant that served pizza. He wouldn't have chosen anything truly expensive or outlandish either, but Josiah's worry was climbing ever higher. He wasn't going to invite him over yet-it would give him far too much time to come up with a plausible excuse-but it was clear to him that Ezra did not need to be alone tonight.

Chris emerged from the break room he'd turned into a temporary office while Ezra was sleeping, interrupting Josiah's train of thought, “Alright, we ready to go? Vin, where's your coat?”

“It ain't that cold, I don't need it.”

“Vin.”

“Oh, c'mon, cowboy.” Vin was shifting under Chris's steely eyed glare, but still grinned just a bit at him, not moving. Josiah smirked, more serious battle of wills between the two were anyone's guess, but for minor things like this, it always ended the same way.

“One.” Vin went and got his coat, dodging out of the way of the swat Chris swung at him as he sidled past him.

*.*.*.*.*.*

Ezra grimaced in amusement and disgust as JD shoved what seemed to be almost an entire slice of pizza in his mouth in record time, “Young man, we are in a restaurant. Could you perhaps devour your meal with a bit more decorum?” JD looked confused for a second, then sheepish, hastily swallowing what must have been a painfully large bite.

“Sorry Ez.” He nodded, still amused, and turned back to his linguine, not surprised when JD's next bites, well smaller, were still shoved in his mouth and swallowed too quickly to truly be considered polite. Then he frowned-his pasta had come with spinach and clams, why was there a pile of green peppers on his plate? He detested green peppers, and looked around, wondering who had foisted them off on him. Ezra supposed there must be some sort of rule about clearing one's plate, or at least eating your vegetables, likely enacted by Mr. Jackson, that was the cause of this. He'd ordinarily say JD or Vin were the most likely culprits, but John Daniel would eat anything on pizza, possibly literally, and Vin was all the way across the table. Either Buck or Josiah, on either side of him had to be the perpetrator.

Before he could say anything, a sigh, and, “Really Buck?”, came from Nathan, and with a grumble that looked like it was hiding a hint of a grin, Buck slid his plate over and scooped the pile onto the edge, pulling it back towards him.

“Unkind, Mr. Wilmington, truly.”

“I was just trying to help you get more of that balanced diet Nate's always going on about. Really, pard, just thinking of ya.” Buck's cheeky grin was followed by a wink at the end, and Ezra laughed out loud, shaking his head.

“Ah assure Ah eat far more fruits and vegetables than you do.”

“And nearly as many sweets as Vin, even if they do tend to be the bakery variety.” Nathan interrupted, before turning to Buck, “Doesn't change the fact that he's right. You shouldn't have ordered something with green peppers if you didn't want them, anyway. Eat every vegetable on that plate, Buck, and I mean it.” Buck made a waving off motion at him, chuckling, but Ezra noticed that his next bite had a slice of green pepper in it.

It seemed that Nathan being “in charge” of the team's health was a bit more literal here. Really, Ezra should have expected that.

The rest of the meal went relatively normally, everyone joking back and forth, the biggest difference Ezra could detect was that Chris followed up the glare that stopped JD and Vin from blowing soda on each other through their straws with a threat that if they did it again they'd be finishing their meals standing up. Considering Vin had come _very_ close to spattering his suit, Ezra wouldn't have had much of a problem with this.

As the waitress came and handed out the bills, already knowing to divide them individually, Ezra picked up his and went to reach for his wallet, only to have the bill snatched out of his hand, and looked up, confused, to Buck shaking his head at him, slightly exasperated, “Hoss, I already told ya, I offered and I owe ya for the stakeout anyway, I got this.”

“Ah don't want to put you out-”

“Ezra, you ain't.” There was a sternness in his face that Ezra had only ever seen him direct towards JD, and he rather considered simply dropping the matter, but, well, _he_ hadn't been on that stakeout with Buck, and therefore the man didn't owe him anything.

“But-ow!” His words were cut off as Buck used his shoulder to tip him sideways, landing a stinging swat halfway between the side and back of his thigh, before lowering him back down to his seat. Ezra, face flaming, chanced a quick look around, expecting to see the entire place staring at him, but no one had even looked over.

“I wanna buy my friend, who had a rough morning, lunch. You gonna let me or do I have to do that again?” Ezra shook his head, and Buck's face was back to it's usual smile, hand moving to clap Ezra on the shoulder. “Good, that's real good, Hoss.”

*.*.*.*.*.*

Ezra frowned down at his steering wheel, not sure how he'd wound up at Josiah's for the night, but entirely sure his agreement had been all but coerced.

He had after all, only assented to come over for supper(and even that had been under heavy duress)and perhaps to watch a movie after, and the next thing he knew the man was telling him there was no need to go back to his house and grab an overnight bag, he had left a change of clothes and anything else he'd need from the last time he stayed over. Because apparently sleepovers with the team's profiler were something this world's Ezra did on a regular basis.

It wasn't that Ezra had never spent the night at Josiah's before, he had. Exactly twice. Once, when he'd not realized how ill he was until he'd stood up at the end of the day and all but fallen over. Josiah had been the only one left in the office besides him and had laughed when Ezra had tried to say he was fine to drive himself home. He hadn't actually realized the older man wasn't just giving him a ride until they pulled up in front of Mr. Sanchez's place, and by that point he was so sick Ezra had been relieved when Josiah had simply ignored his demands to be taken home. The second time, he hadn't quite realized how low his tolerance had gotten after a few months undercover with a fanatical religious group that had no problem with guns, but considered anything stronger than root beer to be the devil's brew. He'd willing handed over his keys when asked, though as it had been a Chris who was about three sheets to the wind himself who'd asked Ezra, Buck had quickly intervened, snagging both Ezra's keys and the keys to the Ram without Chris even noticing, and passing Ezra's keys over to Josiah. Ezra had been surprised at how quick Buck had picked up on it when he'd been teaching him pick-pocketing skills (it was useful for undercover work no matter how Nathan had looked at him when he'd found out what the lessons Ezra had been offering consisted of), until he'd told him he'd had to fish Chris's keys out of his pocket to get him in his house while being the only thing keeping the older man from face planting more times than he could count, and it all became clear. He stiffened a bit as he felt Josiah walking up to his car, but tried not to let on that he'd noticed him, not sure how to explain what he was doing.

“You going to sit in your car all night?” Ezra looked up and tried to flash a winning smile at Josiah, but felt completely certain that it had fallen flat as the other man's face didn't react to it all.

“Oh, Mistah Sanchez, Ah apologize, Ah must have gotten lost in thought.”

Josiah gave him a thoughtful look, rumbling, “Must have been pretty important to keep you sitting there for nearly ten minutes,” as he pulled open Ezra's door for him, Ezra hurrying to undo his seatbelt before he decided to do it for him.

He'd noticed that physical touching, the rules for personal space, at least with friends and family seemed to be rather different than in his own universe. He had grown used to some casual touching since joining Team 7, roughhousing, slaps on the back, the occasional squeeze of his shoulder or neck, or an arm slung about his shoulders(or his neck, if Buck were drunk enough, pulling him in for a squeeze that half strangled him), even the odd hug, but this version of Team 7 took things to a whole new level. Ezra's words proved prophetic as Josiah 'helped' him out of the car, not being remotely subtle as he pressed the back of his hand to Ezra's forehead, checking for fever. “Josiah, Ah am not feeling unwell, Ah assure you.”

The older man leveled a stern look on him, “The last time you told me that, you wound up in the hospital getting your appendix removed.” Ezra tried not to look too surprised, but this was one big difference in the two universes, the first he'd found besides the obvious. He'd had his appendix out at the age of eleven. Uncle James had insisted he was fine, that maybe he had a cold, and sent him on his way and if the school bus driver hadn't taken one look at him when he'd bent double trying to climb up the stairs to board, calling for an ambulance herself- “Ezra?”

“Ah apologize Josiah, Ah,” Ezra hesitated knowing he had to tell the older man something, but that telling him the truth-that he was thinking of the time he'd had his appendix out, a good sixteen years ago-would alarm him, to say the least. “Ah haven't been sleeping very well.” It was the truth, and not one he would ordinarily have shared, and Ezra found himself regretting it as Josiah's brow furrowed with worry. Obviously his Ezra was as closemouthed about such things as he usually was, as after what he'd realized was nearly a three hour nap on Mr. Larabee's couch he was certain the profiler at least had picked up on his sleep deprived state. The worry wasn't at its existence, but at the fact that it had been shared with him, and Ezra wanted to smack himself.

If he let slip what was going on, Ezra had no doubt his well intentioned friends would insist he seek psychiatric care, and as he _knew_ what he was experiencing was real it would either end with him lying to the doctor or on some cocktail of pharmaceuticals that would do no good at all. “Ezra, I know something is wrong. I can't make you tell me, but I think it would be better if you did.”

“Ah didn't do anything!” Ezra hid a wince at his own vehemence, the stress playing havoc with his ability to control the emotions he presented, as Josiah's face somehow softened and became more serious at the same time.

“And I never said you did. I know you can have a problem or a worry without having gotten yourself in trouble, Ezra.” He continued to appraise Ezra for a moment longer, before he turned him bodily, putting his arm around his shoulders and walking him towards the open front door, “Let's go inside, son. Supper's ready.”

Ezra purposefully let out a put upon sigh, “We're having chili, aren't we?”

“No, smart-ass, we aren't. I got take out, from that Indian place we both like like.”

“Really? Truly sir, you should be knighted for valor.” Ezra was pretty sure he was trying too hard, and that if anyone would pick up on it it would be Josiah. He wasn't sure what else he could do though, besides fall to pieces.

Ezra had worried he wouldn't be able to eat, nervous that in spending an entire evening in Mr. Sanchez's company he'd slip up, say or do something, be unable to remember some memory they should have shared, or worse that he'd just tell him, and then the man would think he was insane,(or even worse, believe him, but be furious that he wasn't the right Ezra, maybe think he'd somehow caused this, and who knew what could happen then?) but as they stepped into the small house and the scent of curry and garlic naan bread filled his nostrils, reminding him of that summer he'd lived with Auntie Joyce in a little apartment above a curry shop in Brooklyn, his stomach let out an audible growl. Josiah pushed him in the direction of the bathroom, “Get washed up and come into the living room.”

They sat on the couch and passed take out containers back and forth, watching first You Only Live Twice, Ezra's choice, then Hellboy, Josiah's, talking through parts of it, making fun of the cheesy special effects in James Bond, Ezra teasing Josiah about how he looked so much like Ron Perlman and everyone knew that was why he liked his movies, and silent through others, chewing in synchronization as the sounds of battle filled the room. By the end, Ezra was stuffed to the gills and incredibly jealous of this world's Ezra.

He knew the Team liked him, loved him even, knew that they were the best friends he'd ever had, the closest thing to a real family, but he didn't have this, not with any of them. He went to the bar with them, on the camping trips, and team weekends, and they never left him out of BBQs or game nights. Ezra fit in perfectly as one of seven.

But he didn't go to the shooting range, or fishing with just one of them, like Vin and Chris did together, didn't go to the movies or the arcade like Buck and JD, didn't...well, Ezra wasn't entirely sure what Nathan and Josiah did, though his inclination was that it likely involved chess, philosophical discussion, and far more beer than either of them would ever admit. It was just the way things worked out, he knew that, there were seven of them and when everyone paired up, well, there was one left over. It wasn't as though Ezra couldn't have asked one of them to do something with him either, he could have, and he hadn't.

 He just didn't understand what was so different about the other Ezra, better about him, that-“Ezra?” Looking over to Josiah, he mustered up a smile for the concerned looking man.

“Oh, mah apologies, Mr. Sanchez, Ah was lost in thought.”

"I'd say so, I've been calling you for almost a minute. That's the second time in only a few hours you've drifted away like that Ezra.” Josiah's gaze was as appraising as it was concerned, and Ezra felt both guilty for worrying him and a bit annoyed at the scrutiny. It was hard enough to keep holding himself together without people looking for him to be falling apart.

“Ah believe mah lack of sleep is perhaps catching up with me. Would you think me terribly rude if Ah retired now?”

Josiah shook his head no, even as his eyes definitely grew more worried, the wall clock that came into view behind him as he shifted letting Ezra know why-it was only eleven. “Of course not, if you're tired go to bed. You know where the guest room is, your stuff's still in there.”

He nodded, stiffer than he probably should have been, and with a quiet goodnight to his host, Ezra pushed himself to his feet, forcing himself to walk casually out of the room and down the hall. Ezra found that he hadn't been lying, his lack of sleep was catching up with him for all he hadn't realized it, a yawn nearly cracking his jaw as he pulled off his suit, jacket carefully hung over the back of a chair off to the side, pants folded neatly and laid on the seat, the rest draped over the top, and, not bothering with a shirt, climbed into the first pair of sweats he pulled out of the dresser drawer, hoping they were actually his and not Vin's or JD's. He felt a surge of jealousy at the idea that Vin or JD might also have movie nights with Mr. Sanchez, and then felt thoroughly disgusted with himself for it as he flopped down in the bed, pulling the covers up high enough he could bury himself in them. He wasn't a child, and it wasn't as though he had any more claim on Josiah than any of the rest of the team, less than Nathan. _They weren't his team anyway._ He kept forgetting, never for very long, just a minute or two, but it _hurt_ every time he remembered. He pounded his pillow into shape with perhaps a bit more vigor than was entirely necessary before he laid his head down, but even with the turning thoughts in his head Ezra fell asleep surprisingly quickly, no more than five minutes after his head hit the pillow.

Three hours later he sat bolt upright in bed, forcing down a scream as sweat ran down his face and back, then immediately started to shiver, pushing himself back against the head of the bed, pulling the covers with him as he went and cocooning himself in them.

That wouldn't happen. That would never happen. Even if he'd told Josiah the truth he never would have reacted like that, and neither would the others. They might not believe him, might think him a lunatic, but of all the things he knew, he knew that _that_ would never happen.

 It had seemed so real. Snarling, angry, faces, calling him an impostor, a fake, demanding to know what he'd done with their Ezra, only to finally chase him away, kicking and shoving, guns brandished, guns _firing,_ when he couldn't tell them where he was.

 It was a ludicrous dream, and Ezra knew it, but he was in a ludicrous situation. He didn't think it would actually happen, not at all, but it highlighted to him again that he really was a stranger in a strange land.

 He'd been lying to all of them. Just doing his best to carry on as though nothing were amiss. Ezra was not sure what else he could have done under the circumstances, but it didn't keep his stomach from twisting with the guilt of it. Ezra spent most of his life lying about who and what he was, and therefore, while he often kept things simply to himself, or perhaps spun things one way or another, he didn't actually lie to his team.

 Just his being here in Josiah's house, in sweats that were supposedly his, but that he had never worn before, was a prevarication. Perhaps not an outright lie, but a fabrication at the very least.

 He shouldn't be here. He had no right to be here, no right to take this other version of him's place.

 Ezra found himself stumbling to his feet, only dropping the comforter after he nearly tripped on the end of it, and started out of the room and down the hallway, picking up his keys off the catch all table in Josiah's entryway. Ezra paused for a second before the doorway, rather certain Josiah would _not_ be pleased when he awoke in the morning and discovered him gone without a word, and almost turned around and went back to bed. He couldn't though, the idea of trying to go back to sleep sending a shiver through him that had him reaching for the deadbolt. Making sure the bottom knob was locked, Ezra slid through the doorway and slowly pulled the door shut behind him, concentrating on keeping his footfalls light and even as he walked down the short path to the driveway and the waiting Jag. He was in the middle of unlocking it, key turning, when he heard something that made him wish he could disappear.

“You are _not_ driving anywhere at almost two in the morning, barefoot and with no shirt.” Josiah sounded outraged, and Ezra just stood frozen where he was, key still in the lock, not moving. A hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him back from the car slightly, and then Josiah was unclasping his hand from around his keys, tugging them from his door, and turning Ezra towards him forcefully. “We are going to go back inside, sit down on the couch, and this time you are going to tell me what is going on. You've lost the chance to tell me in your own time.” Ezra opened his mouth to protest and Josiah shook his head, “You've already earned a spanking for this little stunt, don't argue with me right now, Ezra Patrick Standish.” To his own surprise, and Josiah's clear astonishment, Ezra started to cry, the surprised look on Josiah's face making him even more embarrassed, and he pulled away, trying to hide his face, but Josiah wouldn't let him, towing him back towards him and into his chest, squeezing him, “Alright, alright now, it's okay. You scared me, but I'm not really mad, son, it's okay.”

 Instead of calming down Ezra felt himself growing more and more hysterical, barely able to speak between sobs, “Ah'm sorry...Ah just...Ah don't...Ah don't want you to hate me!” The last words were a wail, and even as part of Ezra burned with the humiliation of it, most of him was just trying to burrow into Josiah's chest, not entirely aware of what he was saying.

 “That'll never happen, son. Whatever's going on, that will never happen. I love you. I love you, and so does the whole team. Nothing changes that.”

 “No, you can't...Ah'm wrong...Ah'm the wrong...Ezra.” He was shaking his head into Josiah's shoulder, still sobbing, probably getting snot all over his t-shirt, but for once Ezra couldn't bring himself to care. His words brought a small growl from Josiah, and then a smack on his backside that didn't actually hurt, but still made him wail into the profiler's shoulder, feelings stung.

“Don't you ever tell me I can't love you. I love you very, very much, and nothing is going to change that, and I mean it, you hear?”

“Ah'm sorry...Ah'm sorry.” Ezra was trying to stop crying now, at least to stop crying so hard, but he just couldn't seem to.

“Alright, c'mon,” Josiah scooped him up like a child by his waist, one hand moving under his leg as he hoisted him onto his hip, the other wrapping around under Ezra's hips, holding him to his side, Ezra's legs automatically moving to lock around his waist, surprised and a bit intimidated that Josiah was strong enough to do that with so little effort, “Let's go inside.” Exhausted, worried Josiah would make him tell and then would despise him, whatever he'd said-for God's sake the man didn't even know _who_ he was, not really-, not wanting a spanking, and certain he was going to get one, Ezra hid his head in Josiah's neck the entire way into the house, tears slowly drying, only moving when the big man grunted as he was shifting them down to the couch, worried he'd injured himself, having to tote him around like an oversized infant. “I'm fine, Ezra.” Ezra wasn't sure if he should really stay on the other man's lap where Josiah placed him, but Josiah wrapped his arms around him and pulled him so he was leaning his head down on his shoulder again. It was honestly a bit awkward, he really was a bit too big to fit comfortably, but there was something so comforting about it it didn't even matter. “It's time too tell me what's going on, son.” Ezra shook his head, and Josiah shifted, craning his neck so he could look down at him, “Well then, get comfortable because neither of us are going anywhere for awhile.” True to his word, Josiah just sat there holding him, not saying anything when Ezra shifted to get comfortable, but not letting him slide off his lap when he tried, either.

Apparently his hug was also a time out and Ezra huffed a bit at that thought, really, next thing he knew he'd be having to stand in the corner or write lines.

He wasn't sure what he could tell him, the truth was out, but if he made something up that would be another lie to keep track of, and Ezra did not need that stress in addition to everything else. Maybe, though, there was a way Ezra could tell him without telling him...“Josiah?”

“Yes, Ezra?”

“Ah've been having a recurring dream, a nightmare really.” Ezra's mind flashed to the dream he'd had that night, unable to stop a tiny shiver from running through him, Josiah's arms tightening around him in response.

“For how long, son?”

“About a week. They're rather...bizarre, for lack of a better word. Ah wake up, and take care of my morning abulations, and as Ah go to the office Ah start to see that everything is slightly altered. People and places are unchanged, but there is something off about it all, and the closer Ah get to work the stranger it gets. You are all you, but you _aren't_.” Ezra's voice catches on his last word, but he swallows, hard, and keeps going, “Slowly, Ah start to understand that Ah'm in some sort of alternate reality, that Ah've been switched for another version of myself. Ah don't know what to do, so Ah just carry on like normal, only eventually they start to figure it out and Ah'm forced to confess...” He cut himself off as his breath caught in his chest, pressing his lips together tightly, not willing to let tears escape him again.

"What happens then?” One of Josiah's hands had moved to just below his neck, kneading gently at muscles that had tightened from stress and crying, and he sagged into him, wishing they could just drop it, but already knowing there was no way the older man would allow that.

“They're furious, they don't believe Ah don't know what's going on, they think Ah did something to the othah Ezra...you chase me away, kick me and hit me, and everyone pulls out their guns, and...” He can barely get the words out around the lump in his throat, one of his hands clutching tightly at the fabric of Josiah's shirt, the profiler rocking him back and forth now, his own voice thick as he murmurs comforting words that Ezra doesn't actually hear again and again, almost in a chant, until finally exhaustion wins out over grief and fear and he falls into a spent slump.

“Never, ever, ever, nothing like that will ever happen to you, I promise Ezra. Never, ever, ever. I won't let anyone hurt you like that. I promise, son, I promise.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.* 

Ezra glared at the extraordinarily tiresome expanse of wall in front of his nose, not believing that he, Ezra P. Standish, was being forced to stand in the corner like a small child. It was humiliating, and as he'd told Mr. Sanchez, utterly unlikely to be effective on him, a grown adult.

The man's calm, implacable, “Well, I suppose you'll just have to stay there until it is.”, probably meant that hadn't been the wisest choice of speech, but it had been gratifying to say it either way.

Ezra had woken up that morning, and realized, to his horror, that he was in _Josiah's bed_. He supposed that after he had fallen asleep in the man's arms it might not have seemed like something to think twice about, but it had still been a supreme relief to look to the side and see Josiah ensconced in an arm chair, another pulled up that the tall man had stretched his feet out onto, an open book spread out on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. He had clearly already been up and dressed, a cold cup of coffee and a half eaten piece of toast smeared with peanut butter on the nightstand.

The man had been very solicitous for the first half of the morning, letting him sleep until he'd woken on his own(which Ezra suddenly realized, meant he must have called in sick for both of them, which meant he'd likely told Chris what had happened), and telling him to take his time getting ready once he was up, making him breakfast. It was only after he'd finished and pushed back his plate that he'd looked up to see the man's eyes on him, gaze heavy. Mr. Sanchez hadn't seemed angry exactly, instead he was somber. They had to talk, first about his dream, and then about the choices he'd made in dealing with it. Ezra had had no desire to converse about either item on the list, but had reluctantly followed the man over to the couch, sitting down so his back was to the arm.

It had been long and awkward, full of Josiah both reassuring him that it was alright to have insecurities about the team(“I want you to come to me, or one of the others, or just somebody, when you feel like that, Ezra. You don't have to deal with that on your own.”), and that he had no reason to have those insecurities, the profiler believing that to be the root cause of his dream. With no way to know at least the beginning of the dream was reality, it would be the most logical conclusion he could come to, though Ezra felt contrition at allowing him to believe it. Whatever insecurities he may or may not have, they had never been so extreme as to manifest themselves into nightmares, or really nightmare, and likely never would have if this impossibly implausible situation had not occurred, and he could only assume the same was true for his counterpart.

Then Josiah had jokingly popped, or tapped, really, him on the shoulder, and said, “And if you switched places with another version of you, obviously I'd be upset you were gone and want you back, but that doesn't mean I'd be mean to the other you, and I sure as hell wouldn't let anybody shoot at him. I'd be hoping that wherever you were the me that was there would be taking as good care of you as I would of his Ezra, and there's no reason to think the same wouldn't be true for any other version of me, right?” Ezra had frozen, biting his tongue to keep from blurting out anything he shouldn't, because that only applied if Josiah actually believed him, and it was far more likely that he would think Ezra needed psychiatric help, finally forcing himself to nod and smile a little. Josiah hadn't been deluded of course, instead it seemed as though he expected Ezra to be feeling vulnerable and a little shaky, and didn't think that an unusual reaction to what he'd said.

The second item on Josiah's list was one Ezra would have been exultant to avoid altogether, particularly as he recalled the man's declaration to him on the driveway the night before-“You've already earned a spanking for this little stunt”. Really, hadn't he endured enough?

Mr. Sanchez did not seem to agree.

“Ezra driving barefoot is dangerous anyway, driving when you are even as close to as upset as you were last night is just plain unacceptable. I know you know that.” With Josiah looking at him, eyes and voice stern, there was really nothing he could do but nod, for all it hadn't been a question. “You also were going to leave in the middle of the night, and without a word or a note. I know that there were extenuating circumstances, but that doesn't make any of that okay. Tell me, son, what did you think I was going to do when I found out you'd done that?"

Ezra had known exactly what answer Josiah wanted, but he had absolutely no inclination towards telling him what he wanted to hear.

He perhaps should not have told Josiah that he thought a slap on the wrist would more than suffice. He hadn't been amused. Not that Ezra had anticipated amusement, but the magnitude of his lack of amusement had surprised him. Really, that should have been his cue to give in. Ezra had not, hence the corner. “Are you ready to come out and answer my question properly?” That begged for discussion of what a proper answer was, but Ezra clamped his limps shut against it, not quite that foolhardy. “Ezra?”

“Yes, Josiah.”

“Alright, come here then.” Begrudgingly Ezra made his way back over to the couch, half expecting to be hauled over the man's lap immediately, tension easing as Josiah let him perch himself on the edge of his cushion. “What did you think I would do Ezra, if either I caught you, or if you'd made it back to your apartment and I discovered you gone in the morning?”

Swallowing his pride, Ezra managed to get out a half strangled, “Ah thought you would spank me.”

“Well, you're a hundred percent correct. What other choices could you have made that wouldn't have gotten you a spanking?” Having presumed that the previous question was just for show, and that once he'd answered it the discussion would be over, it took Ezra a moment to formulate a response.

“Instead of leaving the house Ah could have distracted mahself some othah way, read or watched TV?” He hadn't intended it to come out a question, and wasn't sure why it did, and Ezra certainly wasn't sure why Josiah looked sorrowful for just a second before he replied.

“Or you could have woken me up.” Except that Ezra would have done nothing of the sort, even if it had occurred to him. It was ludicrous of course, to be embarrassed at the idea of waking Josiah in the middle of the night after he'd spent a large portion of it bawling in the man's arms, but that didn't prevent the emotion from being felt. “Or told me or one of the rest of the team before things got this bad.” Ezra forced himself to nod, not sure what else he could do. Josiah pushed himself over to the middle of the couch, Ezra swallowing as he realized that the discussion was over now. “C'mere, son.”

He reached out and grabbed Ezra by the shoulder, Ezra letting himself be pulled along even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, a flood of words that Josiah paid no attention to, and Ezra hadn't actually planned to say, leaving him as Josiah draped him over his lap and pulled him forward, adjusting him so that Ezra felt a bit like there was a target on his backside. “Mr. Sanchez, really, there is no need for this, you said yourself there were extenuating circumstances. Besides, the remorse Ah feel for worrying you last night is more than punishment enough! Or, perhaps arrangements could be made for some other sort of penalty? Really sir, let's be reasonable.” Josiah patted him once, as though in warning, and Ezra buried his head in his arms, hiding a hiss, as a flurry of smacks was unleashed on his arse, the older man's gigantic hand seeming to be everywhere at once, or possibly everywhere at twice. Somehow, even through his slacks, the swats from Josiah seemed to sting just as much as the ones from Chris on the bare had, and Ezra was truly relieved that he hadn't pulled them down. As the sting rose he started to squirm from side to side, needing to get away, but Josiah just moved the hand that had been resting on his back to wrap around his waist, pulling Ezra in close so he couldn't move much at all.

As his hand moved lower, dancing over the back of Ezra's thighs, the first sniffles left him, and Josiah lifted him a bit, and for a second Ezra thought that meant it was over, but then he felt Josiah's hands undoing the button on his pants and tugging down his zipper and he flung his hand back, grabbing onto the waistband, doing his best to keep them where they were. “Ezra, let go.” He shook his head from where it was buried in the couch, “Right now.” He kept his hand where it was, and Josiah moved his arm from around his waist, grabbed his wrist, smacked the back of his hand just enough to sting with the hand he'd been spanking him with, and moved it back where it had been, “That's enough.” Ezra's pants and boxer-briefs were at his knees in another second, and he kicked his foot into the couch cushion, frustratedly, and then did it again. It was quite painful enough, pulling his pants down was superfluous and excessive!

Mr. Sanchez ignored his kicking, squirming and other attempts to remove his person from the vicinity of what Ezra was becoming increasingly convinced was an abnormally hard hand. As swats fell back and forth all across the middle of his rear, the sting so much worse than it had been through even his thin dress pants, stoking a fire that felt like it would never go out, the first pleas burst from Ezra, “Mr. Sanchez, please! Ah won't do it again!”

“I know you won't Ezra, not too much longer now.” That was cold comfort, and as Josiah's hand traveled back down to the curve where his legs met his thighs, the sniffles and gasps that had been leaving him transformed into tears and wails, his body shuddering with the force of it. He wasn't sure how long he'd been crying before he felt Josiah pulling his slacks and underwear back up, crying out a little as they were pulled over his reddened flesh, and then Josiah was flipping him over in his arms, soothing and rocking him, Ezra vaguely aware of what felt like a kiss being pressed to the top of his head, and that he probably should have been discomfited by it. Another minute of soft murmurs, a firm hand running up and down his back, and he felt a yawn escaping him, his eyes wanting to close, and that really was the most absurd thing, he supposed it was an exhausting ordeal, but you would think he'd be on his guard after such an experience and instead...Ezra's eyes fluttered close as his mind could no longer maintain his train of thought, body relaxing the rest of the way into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

JD glanced over at Ezra from his spot in the passenger seat, trying to be casual about it, even though he was a little worried. Okay, a lot worried. They'd been planning this trip to the movies for a month, but when he'd brought it up before they left work on Tuesday Ezra hadn't seemed to know what he was talking about-he'd covered it up pretty good, saying he'd thought it was the next week they were going, but JD wasn't an idiot. Not only did they both love the series the movie was based on, one about a spy named Carter Shadows in the near future who was a _total_ badass, Ezra had been acting just plain _weird_ lately.

 

He'd purposely gotten Ezra's favorite characters name wrong, mispronouncing it in a way a lot of fans did and that he knew drove Ezra crazy. There had been no reaction at all, and not in the way where Ezra wasn't reacting on purpose because he thought JD was trying to tease him, but just nothing. Like he didn't know it was wrong, or even who the character was.

 

Even worse, it was obvious JD wasn't the only who'd noticed, so it wasn't just him being paranoid. Before Ezra had picked him up, Buck, in addition to his usual 'don't get into trouble, 'cause if I have to bail you out, you ain't gonna be sitting easy for awhile' speech that JD just rolled his eyes at (when his butt was safely facing away from his surrogate big brother, anyway), had told him to watch out for Ezra. Not for Ezra to watch out for him, or for them to watch out for each other, but for  _him_ to watch out for Ezra. Which meant Buck was as worried as JD was, which kind of freaked him out. With another glance at Ezra, JD shifted in his seat, turning to look out the window so he wasn't being so obvious.

 

Technically, no one but Chris, Josiah, and Nathan, since he was the team's medic, was supposed to have known about Ezra's dream, but things never stayed secret among Team 7 for long.

 

Okay, fine, so JD had eavesdropped. He could tell they were keeping secrets and he was worried! Of course, then he'd said something about it in front of Chris, and Chris's immediate reaction was to turn to Buck and accuse him of telling-which since Chris wasn't supposed to have told Buck, really wouldn't have been Buck's fault if he had. Only then Buck was about to get in trouble, so JD had had to admit that he'd heard it by eavesdropping on Chris and Josiah and his team leader hadn't been happy at all. His butt had hurt until after lunch.

 

Of course, that had meant he got to pick that giant burrito place, even though Nathan said everything there was a heart attack on a plate, and that was pretty cool.

 

Long story short, everybody else figured Ezra's dream was him having some sort of identity crisis about his place on the team. JD wasn't so sure.

 

Ezra was definitely _Ezra_ -he wasn't some impostor or spy made up to look and act like him. Only, JD wasn't so sure he was _their_ Ezra. It was just, there were so many stories and books _about_ alternative universes that it made sense that there might be some truth to it, so maybe there was some truth to his teammate's dream. _Not_ that they would shoot at him of course-unless he turned out to be some sort of super evil version of Ezra who wanted to destroy the world or take it over or something, but he was _pretty_ sure that was not what was going on here. 

 

He didn't really think an evil overlord version of  _anyone_ would pass Miz Nettie's inspection (seriously, his girlfriend's aunt couldn't actually read minds, but she was so good at reading  _people_ she might as well have been able to, and she had pretty high standard to boot) and Ezra had spent a day out there helping Vin with chores. He also didn't think evil overlord's willingly chopped wood for old ladies.

 

So it wasn't an evil, or even a bad Ezra, who had replaced theirs-if he had, JD reminded himself firmly that this was a theory, and it would do no good to get carried away until he had proof. Even then, he wasn't sure he would say anything to the others, but if he had proof, he could show it to Ezra and then he'd have somebody he wouldn't have to lie to. And maybe JD could try and help him figure out how to switch back, because if he was having dreams like that he figured he wanted to go home. He was sure he did, and he was sure their Ezra wanted to come back from wherever he was.

 

So, JD would help him. And convince him that nobody was going to shoot him if he told the others and just be his friend. If this wasn't some sign that he just read way too many comic books and needed to chill on his imagination. Ordinarily though, JD  _knew_ when his imagination was getting away from him, even when he was having fun and going along with it. This didn't feel like that.

 

Realizing that they were getting close to the mall, he could see the roof line off to the side of the highway and the exit sign, JD smiled, mind going back to the movie. The production had kept getting delayed, so he'd literally been waiting years to see it. All the reviews had been good so far, though he'd tried to avoid the detailed ones, since he wasn't quite sure how much of what he knew from the books would be in there, and he didn't want to spoil any surprises. He did hope they hadn't crammed too many books into one movie, both because movies that did that tended to suck, and because he wanted sequels. The movie was named after the first book, The Voodoo Informant, but that didn't always mean anything. “They better have left in the part where he has to fight those robots being controlled by Voodoo Dolls.” He said it maybe a little too seriously-but that was totally the  _best part_ -and Ezra chuckled.

 

“As the word Voodoo is in the movie title, JD, Ah do not think that is something we have to fear.”

 

“Well, _of course_ there will be Voodoo in it, but there's lots more to Voodoo than that, they might have left out the dolls.” 

 

“Ah was unaware Ah was driving an expert on Voodoo around in mah cahr, forgive mah ignorance.” JD rolled his eyes and grinned back as Ezra shot an impish grin at him.

 

“Only what I learned from the book, same as you.”

 

“Then Ah think it's safe to say that neithah of us fall into the category of expert, as Ah don't believe it is generally considered appropriate to believe yourself so when you only have pop culture knowledge of a religion.”

 

“You're the one who called me an expert, genius.”

 

“Ah accept your compliment to mah intelligence, it's about time someone acknowledged mah intellectual superiority.”

 

“Oh, boy...” JD muttered, still grinning.

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

As Ezra drove through the parking lot, looking for a spot that had an island on one side to help protect the paint job(crowded mall parking lots were the sorts of places people felt they had permission to act like heathens), his stomach was bubbling with a nervousness he did not like to admit to. He had both been looking forward to and dreading this day trip since he learned of its existence. On the one hand, he generally enjoyed JD's company very much, and that hadn't changed with his insertion into this new world. On the other, spending time with any of his teammate's alone was becoming increasingly trepidacious. Thinking that he was feeling disconnected and out of place, they kept striking up conversations about past events, team outings, or humorous conversations, inside jokes. Every conversation was like walking through a minefield, Ezra waiting for one of his teammates to pick up on his lack of knowledge and demand an explanation. Some of the events they talked of he had experienced in his world, many of them actually, but there were a good portion that had simply not happened or had happened quite differently. 

 

The conclusion to the unauthorized night hike Vin had talked him into going on, that had taken longer than expected by rather a bit, leading to them getting back to camp after Mr. Larabee had arisen and begun to worry, had resulted in his world in a blistering lecture and the two being assigned both wood gathering and scullery duties for the remainder of the camping trip. In this world, apparently the chores had been foregone for a particularly memorable spanking, and a promise that he'd teach them how to cut a switch if they disappeared without a word again. As much as Ezra hated washing dishes, especially without the benefit of running water, he had clearly gotten a much better deal than his counterpart.

 

There was also the fact that he had learned only four days ago, when JD had loudly announced, “Hey, the movies out on Friday, are you excited yet?”, that this 'The Masked Informant' series was apparently one of his favorites. When  _his_ clear confusion had started to bring confusion and a obvious disappointment to JD's face Ezra had done his best to recover the situation, informing the younger man, that yes, of course he was excited, he had merely thought they had another week before it was released. That night he'd gone home and found the entire series on his bookshelf, obviously well-thumbed, and feeling pleased that here was a series he knew he'd enjoy, that was entirely new to him at the same time, Ezra had set down to read.

 

He'd gotten five pages in and felt like a jackass.  _His_ JD had tried to introduce him to this series about two years ago, and while he had taken the book home, both work, a visit from Mother, and a belief that anything where each title was basically the same-The Voodoo Informant, The Forgotten Informant, The Underwater Informant-couldn't be of much better quality than the Hardy Boys, had meant he'd only gotten about half a chapter read before he gave up and returned it. 

 

Ezra had been thinking on that movie night with Mr. Sanchez on and off, and how he didn't have that same relationship with him in his own world. This newest realization had led him to wonder how often it had been him pushing his teammates away, even now when he thought he'd gotten over such things long ago, rather than the other way around.

 

He'd read the book, and the first two sequels over the last few nights. Yes, the writing was somewhat overdone, stylized, the books were quick reads that he could polish off in one night, but it was done on purpose and as he read he began to see how much care and thought had been put into it, how that helped pull you into this bright, savage, future the man occupied. The books were also full of irony and humor, pop culture references that actually worked, and a truly interesting cast of characters. Though he was fairly certain that the gruff ex-pirate time-traveler who Carter Shadows had teamed up with in book two probably hadn't taken a belt to the hero for changing the plan at the last minute and nearly getting killed in his world's version.

 

It bothered Ezra immensely that he'd turned up his nose at something he was truly enjoying.

 

That he'd turned up his nose at JD.

 

Seeing a spot he deemed safe enough for his vehicle, he put on his blinker and pulled in. “Aw, Ezra, we're all the way at the back of the parking lot,” JD complained.

 

“Good, you can burn off some of the sugar from that gigantic candy bar you were finishing when Ah arrived at the CDC.”

 

“I'm a growing boy, I need sugar. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day you know.” JD gave him an innocent look that was so overdone he might as well have had a stamp on his face that said 'brat' and Ezra couldn't help but laugh.

 

“Ah think you are rathah lucky Mistah Jackson was not present for that pronouncement, as you have skewed that last bit of knowledge in a way Ah do not think would meet his approval.”

 

“Duh, like I would have said that where Nathan could hear.” Hopping from the car, JD continued, “Anyway, if I'd eaten a regular breakfast I wouldn't have room for popcorn and gummy bears. Ooo, or maybe nachos and redhots.”

 

With a small frown as he climbed out and locked up the vehicle, securing the keys in his pocket, Ezra said, “Ah thought we were going to find an eatery for a late lunch at the conclusion of the picture? Besides, Ah was undah the impression that both you and Mistah Wilmington thought that paying for any of the confectionery items available besides popcorn and soda a waste of money and secreted such items about your person prior to entering the theater?” If anything, on the rare occasions the team had watched a movie in the theater rather than at either the ranch or the aforementioned CDC, it had been almost a contest between the two to see how much they could sneak in. When JD hadn't asked to stop at a convenience store he'd assumed that he had already filled his pockets, or that the backpack he'd placed in the Jaguar's trunk contained his stash. For a moment he feared that this was another obvious difference between the two worlds, that this Buck and JD had never done so, but than he realized JD's silence was not a confused silence, but instead an embarrassed one and Ezra looked at him expectantly as they started their trek across the pavement.

 

“We did, until Buck tried to sneak in way too much and got us both caught...” JD grumbled, “We missed the movie and I got spanked by a nineteen-year old usher who still has acne!” Ezra couldn't help it, the mental picture JD had painted for him had him bursting out in laughter, and then laughing some more when the boy glared at him, “It's not funny!”

 

“On the contrary,” Ezra gasped out between laughs, trying to calm himself enough to speak, “Ah think that-”, he had to pause again, managing to control his mirth down to intermittent chuckles, “is one of the most hilarious things Ah have heard in quite some expanse of time. Tell me, was Buck also disciplined by this acne-covered teenager?”

 

A smile pulling at his own lips, though he was clearly trying to keep the scowl in place, JD admitted, “Yeah, he was really pissed about it too, but he couldn't complain 'cause we got caught red-handed.”

 

Shaking his head, and wondering what sort of reaction Buck would have if he were to drop this tidbit of knowledge into conversation, Ezra opened his mouth to say something about the candy having rendered them sticky handed when he paused. What authority had that usher had to discipline either of his teammates? That very definitely went against the laws he'd read, a stranger with no legal authority using corporal punishment on someone was considered assault and suddenly the humor was entirely gone from the situation. “JD, why didn't you and Buck simply leave? It's not as though the usher or any othah employee would be able to force you to comply.” Worries about blackmail, and other vague, half-formed thoughts started to fill Ezra's head, but JD's casual response stopped him, making him realize he still didn't know much about the minutia of this world and its inner workings. 

 

“Yeah, but they were gonna ban us if we didn't take the spanking, and it's that little theater only a couple blocks from our apartment that plays old movies on weeknights for really cheap-we went there to watch The Karate Kid, remember? Getting banned from there would _suck._ 'Course, we thought it was gonna be the manager dishing it out, but then he got some kind of important call and told the kid that caught us in the first place to take care of it. I thought Buck was gonna blow a gasket for a minute.” 

 

“Ah can see nothing to rebuke in that, Ah think Ah would have felt quite strongly about the upset in that situation mahself.” Still, he supposed if Buck had been willing to submit to such a thing in order to be able to continue to frequent a theater, he must have found it worth it. Or possibly, that JD's willingness to do so meant he had to go along with it, he did dote on him.

 

“Yeah, but long story short,” Ezra refrained from telling him the story had already been quite long, “I'm done with my candy smuggling days. I mean paying, three dollars instead of one for a candy bar is dumb, but at the same time, it's not like I need _three_ candy bars.”

 

“Fair enough, though Ah think Ah will stick to popcorn mahself.”

 

Suddenly pointing off to the side of the theater and the mall itself, JD said, “Hey, look, it looks like they re-opened the skate park.” He was heading off in that direction before Ezra had responded, and with a glance at his watch to ensure this side excursion would not make them late for their show, he followed after the enthusiastic youth, seeing as he got closer that there was indeed a skate park, with various features whose names he wasn't sure of set about-he thought those large, circular drops with sloping sides were called bowls, but really it could have been anything. He did recognize the half pipe, though that seemed to in an area that was cordoned off. When he got there JD was talking cheerfully to a security guard and turning to Ezra, announced, “Only half of it's open, the other half is all barricaded, but what's there is cool, isn't it?”

 

Giving the obligatory affirmative, Ezra finished with, “Being as there was not illicit candy in the backpack you deposited in mah trunk, am Ah correct in the assumption that your rollah blades are its main contents?” JD must have been very optimistic about the chances of the skate park being open.

 

“Yeah, I thought after the movie and lunch, I might skate for awhile, if it was okay with you. That would give you time to check out the fancy suits in that new gentlemen's shop you were talking about.” And neither of them would be bored out of their minds while waiting for the other, making it a satisfactory plan all around. Nodding his agreement to the young man, Ezra reminded him that they'd be late to the movie they both wanted to see if they didn't hurry and waited for him to thank the security guard for his information.

 

In the end, after an additional wait in the concessions line, JD had a large popcorn with extra butter and parmesan cheese topping, a large root beer, gummy bears and sour patch kids, Ezra had a medium popcorn with parmesan, a small lemonade, and, because they did look appetizing, a box of cookie dough bites and they made it into the theater just in time to see the last preview. The darkening room was crowded and they had to sit at a higher point than was optimal, but were still close enough to the center to see the whole screen well. They settled in, JD immediately starting in on both his soda and the sour patch kids. Ezra predicted that he'd be leaving for the bathroom before the movie was half over if he kept slurping his soda as fast as he was.

 

The lead-up to the movie started, JD twisting and turning in his seat along with at least half the other theater attendees, as the audience 'raced' down the roller coaster tracks while the voice-over reminded them to please silence their cell-phones. From the beginning the movie pulled Ezra in, his eyes glued to the action on the screen as the movie seemed to race by, similar enough to the book to stay true to the characters and the feeling and different enough to add a few twists and turns Ezra wasn't expecting.

 

“Dude, that was awesome!” The half-whispered, half-shouted cry came as the credits started to roll, and, to his surprise, wasn't from Mr. Dunne in the seat to his right, but from a teenage girl towards the front of the the theater, the rest of the room breaking out in laughter and a few calls of agreement as she tried to disappear into her seat.

 

“That totally _was_ awesome, I can't wait for the next one.” He stretched as he stood up, a few of the bones in his back making cracking noises that didn't bode well for his old age, and Ezra pushed himself up as well, “I'm gonna reread 'The Voodoo Informant tonight.”

 

“It was both quite a fun and and quite a well-made film, I thoroughly enjoyed it.” Seeing the rush for the theater exits they stayed where they were for the moment, discussing their favorite bits of the film, and then began heading that way, stuffing their garbage into the can at the base of the stairs. “Ah believe mah eyes were biggah than mah stomach,” Ezra remarked, wincing as the combination of the buttery popcorn with the carbonation of the soda and sugary cookie dough did not seem to have been the brightest idea, feeling a small amount of indigestion rising in his chest.

 

“Yeah, I'm not hungry yet either,” JD said, “probably should have gotten a medium popcorn.”

 

Hiding a smile at this, as a medium popcorn wasn't much smaller than a large, Ezra proposed, “Why don't we go about our separate activities first, then meet for lunch at,” he glanced down at his watch, “four o'clock?” That would give them a little over an hour, more than enough time.

 

“Meet at the food court? And your trunk is locked, I'd need the keys to unlock it.”

 

Not bothering to hide the face he made at that, Ezra said, “Ah was thinking of some of the more sophisticated choices along the mall's promenade. And, Ah suppose it won't be too much trouble for us to make the walk to retrieve them.” They were out of the theater now, and Ezra turned them towards the exit doors and the parking lot, rather than the large opening leading into the mall itself. He was reasonable certain that JD wouldn't dream of taking his car for a joyride, but he didn't want the keys to get misplaced.

 

“Will I be able to pronounce what I eat? And, more importantly, afford it? I'm a little tapped after my last motorcycle payment.”

 

“No, Ah was planning to have you simply watch while Ah dined,” Ezra said in his most sarcastic tones. “Yes, most have their menu posted in the front window, as you well know, and we will simply have to agree on a restaurant we can both afford.” 

 

“Cool. I wouldn't take your car, you know, I know I probably wouldn't be able to sit down for a month if I did.” JD said this casually, with a little laugh, but it threw Ezra for such a loop it was all he could do for a moment to keep walking at a normal pace. Somehow, in all this time, the idea that he would be allowed, and likely expected, to hand out punishment, to _spank_ , the younger members of the team if they stepped out of line in his presence, had not once occurred to him. How it hadn't he didn't know, but it had simply eluded him until JD's statement, as though a mental block that had been there previously had vanished. 

 

He forced himself to chuckle, and say dryly, “A month? My, Mistah Dunne, you do expect leniency, don't you?”, JD rolling his eyes at him in response. Ezra wondered if he had spanked JD before, or Vin. There a was very good chance he had, considering what he knew of this culture, and of their propensity for trouble. Ezra was quite often pulled into that trouble himself, but not always. There had been times when he thought one or the other or both was behaving foolishly, but not wanting to be the 'tattletale' had had little he could do about it. He wasn't entirely sure he would actually be able to carry through with handing out a spanking, but knew from his own experiences that just the threat could keep ones mind quite focused on their best behavior. Reaching the car he unlocked the trunk and allowed JD to fetch his backpack, and with a few more words and an agreement to meet in front of the theater, and then to walk along the front of the mall proper and choose an eatery, the two went their separate ways, JD to the skate park, and Ezra to the new gentleman's shop on the third floor. He'd heard good things about their tailor.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

JD sat on the brick ledge just inside the skate park, fastening on his roller blades, checking the straps and clips to make sure they were secured, and not too tight or too loose. He hadn't realized until he got over here that they'd taken out the row of metal lockers and replaced it with open cubby holes to put your stuff in, so that he was just going to have to trust that no one would run-off with his converse or backpack. Standing up, a smile naturally came to his face as he sat his eyes on a short grind rail just far enough away for him to build up enough momentum to grind it. Setting off, he moved with short, controlled thrusts of each leg, bent forward against wind resistance as he got going faster, leaping up and twisting into a neat sideways grind, then jumping up off the rail into a 360 spin, completing the grind when he landed, and then headed towards a bowl, dropping in at an exhilarating speed.

 

JD had been skating for about twenty minutes when he noticed them, a group of three teenagers, two boys and one girl with skateboards who'd come into the park a minute ago, staring at him. Thinking that they were watching him do tricks, JD may have shown off a little, doing a back-flip with a rear grab mid-air off one of the higher ramps, landing it smoothly. It wasn't as cool as a brainless, but he wasn't getting quite enough air to try and do a 540 spin _after_ the backflip. Plus, when he'd done it in front of Buck the last time they were skating (Buck thought it made him look cool for the ladies, JD hadn't had the heart to tell him you _had_ to be good at skating for that to work), the man had practically had a heart attack and started going on about JD needing a helmet if he was going to do tricks like that. He hated helmets, but he had to admit Buck was probably right.

 

Okay, so  _technically_ Buck had said he shouldn't be doing  _any_ tricks without a helmet, but he'd be fine. He was careful.

 

He wasn't expecting to see the group snicker at him, calling out, 'fake baby skater' and a few other things he didn't quite hear, and really, he thought the whole twisted sibling rivalry thing between skateboarders and inline skaters was over and done with. JD had heard it all before, and sure, his skates were attached to his feet, he couldn't fall off of them, but that meant when he went down he went down, he couldn't bail off. Maybe there weren't as many different combo tricks you could pull off, but there were plenty that were impressive enough for him, and it's not like any of them, including him, were old enough to have been there when some of the original skateboarders had broken away to develop inline, or to have any kind of grudge either way. Deciding to ignore them-they were probably sixteen-year-olds, there was something about being sixteen, old enough to be plenty cocky and think they were adults, but exempt from the punishments that older teenagers and actual adults faced, that made them think they could do whatever they wanted. Seventeen-year-olds generally seemed to be aware that they were awfully close to the cut-off point and maybe shouldn't push their luck.

 

Doing a series of flat spins across the pavement just for fun, JD half-smiled, half-grimaced as a memory hit him, leaping up to do a quick grind on a length of pipe. When he was in his second year of college the few friends he'd had had been mostly still in high school, people he'd known before they figured out the reason why he was always distracted in class was because it was way too easy and he was completely bored and bumped him up a few grades, and like most teenagers and young adults they all considered house parties with no adults the best thing ever. Despite mostly having more experience with movies  _about_ house parties than actual house parties. Alex, a kid who'd been on his soccer team for years, had invited everyone he knew to party while his parents were on a cruise, about two weeks before his eighteenth birthday.

 

Only his folks came home unexpectedly, and in the middle of the clean-up, with both of Alex's parents furious, kicking out the kids they didn't know and putting the ones they did to work, his Dad had growled at him when he'd tried to hint and see how much trouble he was in, that no, he wasn't grounded, and no, they weren't taking his car away.  _But_ he could certainly expect quite a birthday spanking, and right in the middle of his party sounded like a good place to do it.

 

Mr. Lariviere hadn't tanned him in the middle of his party, but judging from the grimace on his friend's face when he sat down to open his gifts, he'd tanned him good before it.

 

The kids occasionally called comments at him that he didn't bother to acknowledge, while JD couldn't help but notice they were just standing around, occasionally trying, and mostly failing, to do a kick-flip or something similar, but not actually skateboarding. JD wasn't a skateboarder, but he  _had_ skated and knew he could do a better kick-flip than that with his eyes closed. Another trip through a couple of bowls that were close to each other, dropping in on one and then the other, he finished with a grind that went  _almost_ all the way around the edge of the biggest one before he had to break away, and realizing with a glance at his watch and a grimace that it was past time for him to meet Ezra, he started skating towards the entrance to put on his shoes.

 

Only his shoes weren't there. JD frowned at the empty space where they should be, confused. His backpack was still there, and even though he _knew_ he hadn't put his shoes in it, he checked inside, then looked around the other cubbies. What the hell, someone had actually stolen his shoes? They weren't even that nice! As he scratched his head and wondered what he was supposed to do now-he couldn't even go in the mall to buy more because you weren't allowed in without shoes, and he was pretty sure his skates didn't count-he heard a sound that had him sucking in a deep breath, mad now, red-hot mad. Snickering. He turned, saw the group of teenagers laughing and pointing, and, with a snarl, skated right towards them, skidding to a stop about five feet away. Two of them had taken steps back as he approached, apparently thinking he was going to run right over them, but they _were_ just kids. “Where the hell are my shoes?” 

 

“Don't know what you're talking about,” sneered the girl, slouching and looking up at him under too-long bangs, trying to sound offended, the two boys, one of whom who looked to be her twin brother, echoing “yeahs!” after her.

 

“The three of you are the only ones here besides me. We all know they didn't vanish into thin air, so what did you do with them?”

 

“Dude, you can't prove nothin', it was probably a homeless guy that took them.” Barely keeping himself from telling the kid that saying 'you can't prove' was a sure fire sign to literally anyone that you had probably done whatever it was you were telling them you hadn't done, JD ground his teeth and reached into his back-pocket, pulled out his badge and flipped it open.

 

“I'm an ATF officer. I pay attention, nobody has entered the park except for us. Just give me back my shoes and I'll drop this.” If they returned the shoes, he'd just leave, but if they didn't he'd be contacting mall security. There was a moment where the kids started to look nervous and JD didn't think he would have anymore problems, but then something shifted, and with a few glances between each other they were smirking at him again.

 

“Yeah, right, you don't look old enough to be a fed,” snorted the boy twin.

 

“Probably got that out of a cereal box,” said his sister.

 

Gaping now, because he didn't remember teenagers being _this_ bad-if he'd acted like that he would have been getting very familiar with the four walls of his room-JD shook his head, and was considering pulling out his phone and making that phone call to security when the kid in the back, the one who'd been silent, jumped on his skateboard and sailed away. Holding JD's converse up behind him as he went! That was _it_. Streaking around the two just standing there, annoyed that of course it was the kid who had his shoes who could skate, JD stayed hot on his heels as they crossed the pavement. He didn't even properly register the barricade until after he'd made the jump over it, and well, by then he was already past it, so...he'd be careful. They whipped around pallets of construction material, cleared a three foot drop that appeared out of nowhere and then the kid was hopping off his skateboard and snatching it up with a kick to the back, leaping onto the half-pipe's ladder and scaling it like a squirrel. JD couldn't go up it nearly that fast, his blades slowing him down, but by now this was war and he wasn't backing down. Up at the top the boy laughed at him, though JD could see he was nervous, and shouted out, “Man, you must really like these shoes, huh?”, and dropped into the pipe still holding his shoes, swinging them up onto the platform on the other side as he neared it, and coming back down the bowl. 

 

Annoyed, but also kind of glad he'd actually be able to get his shoes, JD waited for the no-name kid to be clear and dropped in-sure, he  _could_ have climbed down and then climbed up on the other side, but he had his pride-not quite getting high enough to flip up onto the opposite platform with his first pass, but on the second he did so, landing neatly, crowing a little at his victory, and then looked around for his shoes. He was really late by now, he was sure, needed to grab them and go. 

 

That was when he heard the voices, two to be exact, one after the other.

 

It was the second JD was worried about.

 

“Hey, you kids can't be up there! That thing ain't finished yet, it could be unstable!”

 

“John Daniel Dunne! Climb down immediately!”

 

Heart sinking, JD turned his head to see that the security guard was converging on the half-pipe from one direction, and Ezra coming from the other. JD couldn't see his expression very well from up here, but he could see it well enough to know it wasn't happy. Clearly, he had heard the security guard. Clearly, JD was so dead. Deader than dead. Chopped up into little pieces and buried in the backyard dead. Vaguely aware of the teenager dropping into the pipe from the opposite side, then hopping off his skateboard as he flipped it up into his hand and booked it away towards the back fence of the park, JD found his shoes, picked them up, and head hanging, tossed them down to land at the bottom of the ladder and started down himself.

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

Ezra sat on the stone bench, enjoying both the slowly lowering sun on his face and the presence of the deep gift box his new suit was nestled into. He'd gone a bit bold on the color of the suit and tie, but one could only wear so much black without risking being mistaken for Mr. Larabee. The gentlemen's shop had been everything his heart could desire, though he wouldn't be surprised if it didn't last more than a year as, while the pricing had not been outlandish for the quality of both the apparel and service he received, it had been enough to give him pause. Still, the suit was magnificent and the few alterations he'd needed had been done before he'd finished picking out a secondary tie-one never could have too many sartorial choices when it came to ones wardrobe. If it wouldn't likely have made his jeans and t-shirt clad companion feel a bit awkward Ezra thought he might have worn it out of the store.

 

Speaking of which, where was JD? It was generally Ezra who was fashionably late. A glance at his watch showed him it was about five minutes past four, and Ezra supposed he'd allowed himself to lose track of time in his fun. Well, it would do him no harm to venture the few hundred yards over to the skate park and collect Mr. Dunne himself.

 

Standing, he arranged his package in his arms in a way that would not crush the material and began walking that way. As he got closer Ezra began to cast about for JD with his eyes, not concerned at first when he saw no sign of him, assuming he'd come into view at any moment. By the time he'd reached the park's opening and there was still no sign of him, neither hide nor hair, Ezra was frowning in mild concern. Perhaps he'd missed JD, passed him on the way over here?

 

Or, perhaps he'd fallen and injured himself in a location where he couldn't be seen by passersby?

 

Swallowing, because the park was almost entirely deserted, just two teenagers standing around over to the side a ways, and it would have been quite possible for no one to notice if such a thing did happen, Ezra quickened his pace, glancing behind or into each of the park's features as he passed them. JD had been here for over an hour, if he had been injured shortly after he arrived...at that moment, just as his thoughts were trekking in a direction he did not care for at all, he caught a flash of dark hair moving out of the corner of his eye and turned to see JD skating after another figure in the _closed_ section of the park. In the _active_ construction site. Relief warring with exasperation-What in the world did that young man think he was doing? Was he racing that other young gentleman?-Ezra followed after him, not hesitating at all when he hopped the barricade and began following after. It wouldn't do for an ATF agent to be caught trespassing, particularly in such a obviously non-work related  matter, and so he intended to collect JD and leave posthaste. Really, it was the sort of trouble only JD could get into, and Ezra was inclined to find it amusing.

 

Until he came to the gap he'd seen JD jump a few moments ago, right before he'd disappeared around a sharp corner and realized that while it was only a few feet across, the chasm was around six feet deep and had exposed piping filling up the bottom of it. Teeth gritting quietly he continued tracing JD's path, not at all surprised to find him in the middle of a half-pipe as he came around the corner, and making a good showing for himself it seemed, as he flipped up onto the platform and made a noise of triumph at his opposite number on the other platform. So  _not_ a friendly competition then? Stepping forward, planning to announce his presence and insist his teammate remove himself from the restricted area, Ezra swore quietly as he saw a security guard approach at a run, then felt a chill go through him as he realized just what the man was hollering at the top of his lungs. “Hey, you kids can't be up there! That thing ain't finished yet, it could be unstable!” 

 

“John Daniel Dunne! Climb down immediately!” He surged forward, watching anxiously as a miserable and apprehensive looking JD began to climb slowly down the ladder. Good, that boy should be apprehensive, Ezra was going to read him the riot act for being so careless with his safety.

 

“Hey, you with that guy?” The security guard, looking none too pleased himself, called over the few feet to Ezra.

 

“We journeyed to the mall togethah, howevah Ah only learned of this little misadventure when Ah sought mah companion out as the hour grew late.” Ezra kept his eyes mostly on JD, half-way down now, as he answered, but he could see the guard look at him like he was insane, likely based on his choice of language.

 

“Yeah, well, good, you can deal with him then, I'm supposed to be on my lunch break,” the man grunted, “just don't do it here, I need you out before I can go. And if you're gonna give him the bare ass tanning I'd be giving any of my friends for doing something that stupid, remember the park is child focused, so use one of the cubicles.”

 

Ezra blinked for a moment, surprised at the man's bluntness and at the realization that, yes, he would be expected to deal with this matter. No matter how displeased, how outright angry he was, he had no desire to actual harm JD.

 

Of course, he could not avoid acknowledging that he had not felt harmed after either of his 'discussions', and JD, who would expect certain consequences, was even less likely to do so. And climbing atop an unfinished half-pipe was easily as foolish as his attempting to drive when so upset-more so, because JD hadn't merely tried, he had actually mounted the structure and used it.

 

Also, child focused? Cubicles? Clearly, he had more googling to do tonight.

 

JD was nearly to the bottom by now and pushing his other thoughts away Ezra moved forward to see what he had to say for himself, trying to steel his heart when the boy looked up at him through his bangs, guilt in every pore and one skated foot raising to rub nervously at the back of the opposite ankle, half-mumbling, “He took my shoes.” The shoes in question were dangling out of the younger man's fist and it took him a moment to realize that what he'd seen was a giant game of keep away. “I'm sorry, Ez...don't be mad.”

 

Fighting the urge to rub his forehead, Ezra said quietly, voice stern, “John Daniel, you put your life in dangah by using an unsound, barricaded structure, all for a pair of shoes. In ordah for me not to be mad Ah would have to have a lack of regard for your safety that is nevah going to happen.”

 

With a resignation that made the southerner want to forget about the entire thing, JD said, “You're gonna spank me, huh?

 

“Yes. Ah am.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

As guilty and nervous as he felt, JD was still annoyed when the security guard announced, “Alright, like I said, it's time for my lunch break, need you to clear off from this area.” Where the heck had he been when those brats had taken his shoes?

Apparently Ezra had the same question, because, raising his eyebrow, he asked the man, “Before we take our leave, sah, may Ah ask what you intend to do about the miscreant who attempted to make off with mah companion's shoes?”

“Sorry, bud, but he's long gone. I'll look at the tapes later, if I get a good shot of his face, I'll print it out and put him on our banned board, alright?” He was clearly impatient, starting to get a testy sound to his voice, and JD _knew_ he should keep his mouth shut, but he didn't anyway. 

“Where were _you_ when they were taking my shoes in the first place?” The man's impatient expression started to become irritated. JD may have put a little too much emphasis on the word 'you'.

“I had two people call in sick today, means I'm covering a lot more than just the park. Only saw you because I was checking the cameras before I took off, and you know I could get you for trespassing right? Can't be everywhere, and you got your shoes back, didn't you?” JD didn't answer, knowing he had no business being a smart-ass and pretty sure if he said something that was how it was going to come out, the guard's eyes narrowing at him as he got no response, “Might want to watch the attitude, kid, or I'll change my mind about dealing with you.” JD blanched a little, eyes automatically going to Ezra, who stepped forward and slightly in front of him.

“Ah can assure you, that won't be necessary at this juncture.” He was smiling politely at the guard, but JD could hear 'the who the hell do you think you are' in his voice, and winced. Technically if the guy tried to push things, they could pull rank, he was just a security guard, mall cops weren't really cops, but then Chris might get called and that was the last thing he wanted to happen. Their team leader did not like it when they ran afoul of other authorities. Luckily, the security guard nodded after a moment, pointing silently to the front of the park. Ezra grabbed his elbow and began pulling him along, JD just letting him, moving his skates enough to keep up, and when they were far enough away the undercover agent said quietly, “A little more discretion in your mode of questioning might be in ordah if such an event were to occur again. Ah don't deny that the man's methods might be lax and his dedication questionable, but in an unknown situation you try not to antagonize those who have powah ovah you.”

“You asked him something too.” JD knew even as he said it that it was a very weak argument, and the exasperated look Ezra shot at him confirmed it.

“Without calling his ability to do his job into question. Ah asked him what he was _going_ to do, you asked him why he had already failed in his duties.” JD made a face, but nodded, knowing Ezra was right, although he kind of wished he didn't. It seemed to take forever to get back over to the barricade, Ezra made him go around the gap that JD had jumped over before, and it was a lot more awkward to climb over the barricade than just to jump over it. 

“Where are the cubicles located here?” JD looked at him a little funny for a second, because the cubicles were over on the left side of the grounds, a few dozen yards away from the park's entrance, which was standard design in most places. Then he remembered his 'not our Ezra' theory, and maybe it made a little more sense, but didn't they have cubicles in his world? _That_ would lead to some embarrassing situations.

Then as he pointed over to the cubicles he saw the two kids that had stayed in the park, standing not to far away from the cubicles, still smirking, and felt his face start to burn as he scowled at them. Sure, the cubicles were sound-proof, but they'd still see him go in and see him go out, and they were waiting there on purpose, he was sure of it-“Are those two associated with the juvenile delinquent who made off with your shoes?” Ezra's eyes were narrowed at the two teenagers when he looked up at him, and feeling a little vindicated at that, JD nodded.

“Yeah, pretty sure they were all part of stealing them. They were hassling me practically the whole time I was skating anyway, just 'cause I'm an inliner instead of a skateboarder.”

“Hmm. Wait here.”

“Ezra? What? What are you going to do?” Wanting to follow after the southerner, JD took a few hesitant steps forward, but wasn't quite willing to do the opposite of what he'd been told when he was already in big trouble.

Ezra apparently looked more intimidating than him, even in the linen shirt and brown pants he'd worn today instead of one of his suits, as the kids started shifting on their feet, and the girl actually began moving towards the wall that surrounded the park as he walked up to them. Something Ezra said had her stopping and moving back to stand by her brother, and JD really wished he could hear him. A minute later and Ezra was showing them  _his_ badge and the boy was reluctantly pulling out a cell-phone and handing it to Ezra.

He was calling their parents. JD was sure of it, and he was also sure the grin on his face was super big right now.  _That_ was proper payback. Ezra was awesome. Officially awesome. JD shifted back and forth on his skates, then realized he might as well put his shoes on now and plopped down on a nearby grinding rail, still watching the show in front of him. After a minute or so of what must have been Ezra explaining what had happened he passed the phone back and JD watched as the boy mostly just nodded at whatever was said, and then passed the phone to his sister. Then as JD watched the two exchanged looks, said something to Ezra and started making their way over to him. Glad as anything that he'd already finished switching from his skates to his regular shoes, JD scrambled to his feet, keeping his face blank as he was approached, noting that while there was some sheepishness on their faces, there was also a bit of resentment. “So,” the boy started, “we're supposed to say we're sorry about acting like jackasses. And I guess we were.”

"So, we're sorry we acted like jackasses.”

“And took your shoes.”

“Yeah. That was a dick move.”

JD wasn't quite sure what to say to that, or to the way they each started talking the second the other one stopped, so that their apology turned into a sort of a long, somewhat rhythmic, chant. He considered them for a moment where they seemed to grow more nervous, then relented. As mad as he could get, JD never had been able to hold a grudge. “Are you gonna pull crap like this again?” Two shakes of the head, and they looked kind of embarrassed now, and after making them wait another second-they had been seriously rude-he said, “Okay, I guess I accept your apology.” Two nods and a hint of a smile from the girl, and they were walking away, towards the entrance, probably having been summoned home in addition to being told to apologize.

He turned to Ezra who'd followed the twins over once they were gone, and, grateful, said, “Dude, Ez, thank you.”

“It was nothing, those miscreants would only have become more obnoxious in time without interference.” Ezra waved a hand, as though dismissing his deed into thin air and JD sighed silently, because apparently that was something their Ezra and this Ezra both did, try and wave it away when they did something nice, like it wasn't a big deal. JD was pretty sure Ezra liked those thank yous, only it seemed sometimes like he thought he wasn't supposed to get them. Before he could say anything, Ezra got serious again, “Their bad behavior does not excuse yours, JD.”

Head ducking just a little, because he wasn't used to Ezra being mad at him and didn't much like it, JD nodded. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“Yes, well, we shall rectify the situation, then put it behind us.” He motioned for JD to walk in front of him and JD went, swallowing. This sucked, it had been a long time since JD had been in trouble with Ezra, and...

Crap. He was pretty sure he'd _never_ actually been in trouble with this Ezra, and suddenly JD was very, very nervous. If he was from a different world, did they do things differently there? If Ezra didn't know about cubicles what else didn't he know about? He knew Ezra wouldn't _hurt_ him, but he...he didn't know what he would do. He'd thought he was okay with this whole different Ezra thing, but it was one thing when they were just going to the movies, or when he was thinking about the different Ezra needing him, but this wasn't the same thing. He wished now that he'd just asked him, even if saying, 'Hey, are you from another dimension?', probably wouldn't go over well. At least he'd _know._ Have a better idea anyway, because that was something he wouldn't blame his teammate for lying about, if he _was_ from another dimension.

Although, maybe JD could swing this to his advantage...if he was a different Ezra, maybe he didn't know exactly how the others, including the other him, would have handled this and JD could talk his way out of-well, not a spanking, it was pretty obvious that was going to happen, but maybe not as bad of one...and he bet maybe he could talk him into not telling Buck...

All of a sudden, without JD having really noticed the walk, they were in front of the white concrete cubicle, with the little stick figure sign of someone across someone else's knee on the door. JD tossed his best, 'I'm real sorry, and I learned my lesson' look over his shoulder, but Ezra just raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to open the door.

“Furthah delays are only prolonging the inevitable, mah friend.” Sighing, his head hanging, JD pushed open the door and walked in, Ezra following and locking the door behind them. It looked like any other cubicle, the concrete walls painted a generic sandy off-white color, a long, low bench made out of the same concrete as the building along the back wall, a thin layer of the sort of rubbery padding that could be wiped off easily across the surface, a straight-backed chair that was bolted to the floor kitty-corner to it, with a sink and garbage can across from that, and in one corner a raised stool that was also bolted to the floor. JD couldn't help but notice the way Ezra was staring around it almost suspiciously, like he didn't quite understand what he was seeing. Before JD could say anything the man seemed to have shaken it off, so he wasn't quite sure when Ezra turned towards him and raised an expectant eyebrow whether he'd imagined it or not.

Dutifully, because he knew what was expected, JD crossed to the bench at the back, Ezra following after, and stood to the side of it as the older man arranged himself in the middle. Reaching up he took JD's wrist, and squeezed it lightly, “Please look at me, John Daniel.” Squirming a bit, because Ezra using his full name when he was in trouble was different than when he was just doing it because he was Ezra, JD met his friend's eyes, feeling both more guilty and more nervous as he saw the seriousness in them. “Tell me what misdeeds led us to this unfortunate juncture.” JD blinked in surprise, and then fought a frown, because that wasn't like Ezra, Ezra lectured, he'd tell you in detail exactly what you had done wrong and why you weren't going to do it again, and all JD had to do was nod. Well, all he was supposed to do, sometimes he had to jump in and make sure the story was right, or explain _why_ what he'd done really wasn't that bad. _Josiah_ was the one who made you tell him what you'd done wrong, and sometimes Nathan, not Ezra.

Even though he'd been thinking about it, worrying about it just a minute ago, JD wasn't entirely sure he'd really believed his own theory until right then, had kind of thought it had to be true, but couldn't _really_ believe it. Even though this was a tiny little thing, somehow it was the thing that made it real, and it hit JD like a punch in the chest. He wasn't Ezra, not his, he really, really wasn't.

He wanted his brother. He wanted his Ezra, to be sitting there and telling him something like no matter how good he thought he was he couldn't actually fly and would have been 'in a predicament of the highest proportions if the structure had failed'. This wasn't fair. “JD?” Only the earnest, serious, look on Ezra's face, and the eyes he was letting JD read just a little, that were equal parts relieved, reluctant, and angry he'd been such a doofus in the first place, looked pretty much like he figured his Ezra would look right now. Plus, he'd stood up for him with those kids. He'd been scared when he heard what the security guard said, it had been clear in his voice when Ezra shouted at him to get down. “JD?” Ezra's voice wasn't quite as patient as it had been the second time he said his name, and, swallowing, JD bit the bullet.

“Um, uh, I went past the barricade into the part of the skate park they are still redoing, and then,” JD could feel the flush creeping up his neck, “I was skating on the half-pipe when it's not finished-but I didn't know it wasn't Ezra, it's not like there were signs or anything!” He was pleading here, hoping Ezra, who'd done his fair share of risky things, might be a bit lenient there.

“Ah should certainly hope you didn't launch yourself onto that structure while fully aware of its potential instability. Nevertheless, the particularly large notices posted around the barricade telling one to stay off the premises should have been sufficient in warning you that the features in that part of the park may be unfinished. You were being sorely tried, Ah know, but shoes can be replaced.” Ezra didn't actually say 'you can't', but JD got the message loud and clear and nodded slowly, the toe of his right shoe moving to scuff at the floor. He let go of JD's wrist and said quietly, almost cautiously, “Unbutton your jeans, please.”

JD's hands moved to do that, and then he paused, biting his lip, his earlier thoughts that maybe he could get out of some of spanking coming back to him. Technically if this Ezra didn't know any better...“But you almost never take my pants down, Ez, please don't.” There was a flash of surprise in Ezra's eyes, that turned to suspicion far quicker than JD liked, but he just shook his head. Crap, he'd just made him wonder if JD knew, hadn't he?

“Almost nevah, is not nevah, is it? Now, JD.” Figuring he should have known that wouldn't work, and feeling kinda stupid for having tried it, JD unsnapped the button on his jeans, tugged the zipper down a little, and waited, not sure what Ezra wanted him to do next. Only Ezra didn't seem quite sure what to do next either, since he was just sitting there. Well, this was one thing JD wasn't going to help him figure out, though he wondered why it would be strange to him.

Hey, sometimes in comics, people in AUs were different ages-maybe Ezra was the youngest in his universe? That could explain it, it's not like JD had ever spanked any of the guys before, even though technically there was nothing saying he couldn't if they did something wrong and he was around. He'd spanked a couple of uncooperative suspects at a bust before for not complying, of course, and he'd swatted team six's new rookie pretty good a couple months ago when she'd nearly contaminated a whole pile of evidence by not paying attention to what she was doing, but that was it. He _had_ told on Buck that time that Zasadzinski asshole got off, and Buck decided he couldn't let that stand, and he'd told him he was gonna tell on him too, but JD hadn't even thought of trying to deal with it himself. Still, it was a little weird just standing here...it probably hadn't even been a minute, but it felt like forever, and if Ezra wasn't going to spank him that was just fine with JD, more than fine, in fact it would be great, but if not he kind of thought he'd rather get it over with.

Finally seeming to come to some kind of conclusion the older man leaned forward and, grabbing the sides of JD's jeans, pulled them down to the middle of his thighs. Jeez, of all the days for JD to wear the boxers with the little Bart Simpsons all over them. After that things seemed to go more like what he expected, Ezra tugged him down over his lap and JD squirmed around until he was sort of comfortable as a hand moved to sit on his back, the other resting on his thigh. “Ah truly hope Ah do not need to repeat this action any time soon.” His hand raised and JD tensed, waiting for a sound slap, only-

Only Ezra barely did more than tap him, it made a little noise, but it didn't really sting at all. What? Had he really _never_ spanked _anybody_ before? That didn't even make any _sense._ His hand came down again, harder, but not enough to really hurt. JD wondered if after a couple more smacks if he whimpered a couple times would Ezra believe it? If he thought this was hurting him, it might be worth a try.

Except that apparently JD's lack of reaction had tipped Ezra off that he wasn't doing it right, and the third swat came down hard and fast, _too_ hard, way _too_ hard, so that tears sprang to his eyes as JD shouted and his legs scissored out, the hand that had been dangling off the bench reaching out until it found the nearest thing to squeeze, Ezra's ankle, and squeezed it hard. Ezra froze while JD cringed, and then he was swearing and turning JD over on his lap, hugging him like he'd already tanned his hide good, and yeah, it had hurt, but it hadn't injured him, and now Ezra was talking a million miles a minute, saying he was sorry, and he hadn't meant to hurt him, and JD kept saying his name, but he wasn't listening, “Ezra! Ezra, I'm _fine_. Ez, stop it!” Finally, frustrated and not liking how guilty Ezra sounded, when JD was _fine,_ he snaked his arm out of his brother's hold, and, before he could think better of it, slapped the fleshy part of his hip, Ezra jumping a little, but finally when JD repeated that he was fine he calmed down, an amused smile crossing his lips after a moment.

“Did you just swat me in order to impart the fact that I had not injured you when performing the same action upon your person?”

“...Well, yeah,” JD said with a shrug, not really sure what to do except slide off his lap and pat at his shoulder as Ezra started laughing like that was the funniest thing that he'd ever heard of. He wondered if he was still in trouble. He was pretty sure Ezra was okay, but he wasn't quite sure what was wrong in the first place. Finally the unexpected hilarity seemed to end and his teammate turned towards him concerned again.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

“Ezra, I'm an ATF agent, not a little kid. I won't lie, that last swat was too hard, but it didn't even hurt as bad as a punch and I've taken plenty of those.”

Ezra looked at him for a long moment, and JD let him, being patient, “The simple fact that you found it plausible to compare it to a punch bothahs me immensely. Ah shouldn't have-Ah should have left punishing you for Mistah Wilmington or one of the othahs. It's not mah place.” Oh. JD had thought-Oh. He hung his head, filling his his eyes sting. “JD? What's wrong? You said Ah didn't hurt you?”

He shrugged, but he could feel Ezra staring at him, and, well, he wanted to know as much as he didn't. Why did Ezra think he couldn't punish him, and was it the reason that had popped into his head? He knew he should probably let Ezra be the one to come to him with the alternate world thing, but having to not say anything when he knew what was going on was kind of driving him a little crazy anyway, so... “We're still family aren't we? In your world?” That they weren't was the only reason JD could think of for Ezra to go as far as to say it wasn't his place to punish him, and that, that....

That just _sucked._

“Of course we are...”, JD looked up the relief he'd started to feel at Ezra's words disappearing as Ezra trailed off, his eyes widening. The older man started to bring one of his hands to his mouth and then stopped himself, and a part of JD's mind that had been cataloging similarities and differences saw it, that nervous tick of wanting to press his pointer knuckle to his mouth, that was even rarer for Ezra than playing with the buttons on his cuffs. “Of course we are family, John Daniel, but what do you mean in mah world?”

JD gave him a look that Ezra didn't react to except to raise an eyebrow, that he thought made it pretty clear that he wasn't buying it. When Ezra continued to look at him expectantly, like he hadn't taught him the best way to get out of answering awkward questions was to put the burden of proof on the other person(Except, he hadn't, had he? Maybe he'd taught that to the other JD, but not to him-wow, this was weird) JD just looked steadily back. “I'm not stupid, and I know what's going on.”

Ezra let off what would have sounded like an airy laugh if JD hadn't known what Ezra's actually airy laugh sounded like, instead he was pretty sure it meant that the older man was beyond nervous. “Are you referring to that dream Ah had last week? Ah'm sorry if that gave you any sort of strange ideas, but Ah can guarantee you, it was just an unusual dream. Really JD, alternative dimensions?”

“C'mon Ezra, you can tell me the truth. I won't tell the other guys, I promise.” Ezra's face looked tempted for a moment, but then it went blank again, and a little annoyed.

“Ah said it was only a dream, and only a dream it was. Ah would appreciate it if we would not discuss it any longah.”

Slightly frustrated, because he knew, and Ezra _knew_ he knew, and he still wouldn't admit it, JD nodded his head stubbornly. “Fine, but I could help you figure out stuff you don't know-what if it had been Vin who got in trouble, he wouldn't have known what was going on.”

“JD...Ah just told you it was just a dream, didn't Ah?” JD shrugged, then nodded, because Ezra had just told him that-it was total crap, but he'd told him that. “Then let us please let the topic drop.”

“Okay, fine.” JD huffed for a minute, then sighed. “Ezra? ...Am I still in trouble?”

“Ah think perhaps that should be left up to Mistah Wilmington.”

“You didn't actually hurt me, Ez.”

“Perhaps not, but Ah could have. We will discuss it in more detail when we have returned to the CDC.”

Well, crap. Not only was Ezra upset over something that really wasn't that big a deal, JD was in even more trouble than he had been. Maybe Buck would be out when they got back or he wouldn't notice that JD's helmet wasn't in his backpack with his blades...

Also, he wasn't going to let this other world thing go. He'd get him to admit it.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Buck smiled to himself as he flipped on the oven light and looked at the spaghetti pie starting to cook nicely. Not a lot of people knew it, but, while Buck would never be a chef, he had a good grasp of the necessities-spaghetti and Frito pie, nachos, macaroni and cheese casserole, pizza casserole, and of course his famous chicken and tuna bake with the potato chip crust, and tried to cook a real meal once a week or so. Sometimes he even put vegetables in the ones that didn't have vegetables in the recipe, so he didn't know what Nathan's talk about how his diet was a heart attack waiting to happen was all about. He used to make chili, but Josiah was so much better at that, that now he just begged leftovers for his freezer off the profiler. Just telling him his was the best generally got him a decent sized tub. Flipping off the oven light Buck stretched as he stood up, arching his back and wincing at the sound of several bones making crackling sounds.

 

Nathan was probably right about one thing, his old ass should be stretching more after a work out. Meeting him for a run while the kid was at the movies had had Buck remembering something he'd forgotten until the medic was running in place in front of him and smirking while he waited for Buck to catch up-Buck ran to keep in shape, Nathan ran because he _liked_ it. Crazy, that's what that was. Turning as the medic came into the kitchen, still rubbing a towel around his head and shoulders from his turn in the shower, he said, a little defensively, “Spaghetti pie has vegetables in it. Even some fresh ones.”

 

“And a heck of a lot of fat, the way you cook it,” Nathan said, surprise at Buck's statement turning to exasperation, “Vegetables are good, but I'm not worried about your nutrition, Buck, I'm worried about your cholesterol. Your last check-up it was too high, and you know it. Do you at least have stuff to make a salad or something so you aren't eating a whole plate of that stuff?”

 

There probably was stuff to make a salad in the fridge, whether any of it was still edible or not, Buck wasn't sure of. His spaghetti pie _did_ technically have fresh vegetables in it, but that had been before they got called out as back-up for Team Six four days ago and he'd had to stick it in the freezer. He was saved from answering by the sounds of JD's key turning in the lock, though he did say quietly as he walked past, “Ezra likes my spaghetti pie,” and saw Nathan pause, because it was true. Ezra wouldn't admit it, but for some reason, probably some relative that was nicer than Maude, spaghetti pie was comfort food for him, and he always wound up taking a second helping when Buck served it-something that definitely didn't happen with the Frito version, which he'd hardly touch. The team had decided that they were going to throw as much togetherness and attention as he could stand at Ezra, because, well, they didn't know what else to do, but it was obvious he was hurting. Trying to get him to stay and hang out awhile longer, bribing him a little maybe with the pie, was the least Buck could do.

 

“Hey boys, did you have fun?” Buck smiled cheerfully as he walked into the living room to see JD and Ezra talking by the closed front door, it seeming like Ezra was already planning to stay awhile. That was good-hell, what was JD giving him that guilty look for? A quick glance at Ezra to see whether he looked guilty too, showed him Ezra giving JD a look that was a mixture of encouraging and stern, as if telling him to get on with his confession, so at least it wasn't a two for one special. Of course, if _Ezra_ , one of the trouble trio, was giving JD a stern look this wasn't going to be anything good either. “Alright, what did you do?”

 

JD blushed and swallowed, finally saying, “Could we maybe talk in my room?”

 

“'Course we can.” Seeing JD was reluctant to move, Buck crossed the floor inbetween them and turned JD in the direction of the hallway, giving him a little push to get him started. “Only works if you start walking that way.” He looked over his shoulder at Ezra, who was eyeing the door, “Nate's in the kitchen, keep him company, and one of you take the food out of the oven when the timer goes off, would ya?” Knowing the living room layout enough he didn't really need to look where he was going, Buck kept his head craned in Ezra's direction until he got an answer, his teammate nodding at him after a moment where he looked at the door a little harder.

 

“Ah wouldn't dream of leaving without greeting Mistah Jackson as well if he's in attendance, and will pass on your message of course.” Well, that wasn't exactly the answer he was hoping for, but maybe smelling the spaghetti pie would change the man's mind. He nodded and turned his head forward as they reached the start of the hallway. It was time to concentrate on JD. They trooped down the hallway until they reached JD's door, a small but reluctant sigh coming from his little brother as he pushed it open. Buck wanted to say it couldn't be that bad...but, he didn't want to jinx himself. Tossing the backpack he'd been carrying over his shoulder onto his desk seat, JD walked into the middle of the room and turned to face him, taking a deep breath. Figuring he had all the time in the world to move them over to the bed, Buck pulled the door shut behind him and leaned back against the door frame, looking expectantly at JD.

 

The kid opened his mouth, started and stopped a few times, and taking pity on him, Buck interrupted his second variation of, “Well, you see...it's kinda like this...” Well, partly he was taking pity on him, partly if JD was this reluctant he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

 

“Did something happen in the movie?”

 

“Nah,” JD shook his head, hair flopping a little into his eyes, “that part went good. But, after, me and Ezra split up and...”, he trailed off again, giving Buck his best puppy-dog eyes, something he ordinarily didn't use 'til he was already getting scolded, and knowing he wasn't going to like what came next, but needing to know what it was all the more for that, Buck straightened up from where he'd been leaning.

 

“You and Ez split up, and then what?”

 

“I went to the skate park and-”, Buck held up a hand to cut him off, his eyes moving over to JD's desk to make sure he hadn't seen wrong, and mouth tightening, fixed an angry look on JD.

 

“No, you couldn't have done that.”

 

JD stared up at him in wary confusion, and slowly shook his head, “But I did-”

 

“Then why the heck was your helmet already sitting on your desk when we walked in, JD?” He took a long step forward as he spoke, towering over JD in a way he ordinarily wouldn't have, but ever since he'd seen him come about 3-inches from smashing his head on the bottom of a ramp doing one of his fancy tricks, Buck had put his foot down on a helmet, and JD had agreed. The boy was damn good, but being good didn't make his bones any less breakable, and good didn't mean perfect.

 

JD backed away a half step and Buck let him. “I forgot it?” It came out a question, and Buck found himself drawing in a deep breath.

 

“Wanna try again?”

 

“Not really.” JD's eyes widened after he said it, like he was already regretting it, and deciding he'd taken enough deep breaths, Buck took another step forward and gripped JD's shoulder, turning him to the side long enough to swat his behind once and then pulled him back around to face him.

 

“Pretty sure you do.”

 

“I really did forget, I didn't mean to leave it!”, JD blurted, “and then we were halfway there and I couldn't ask Ezra to go back for it.” JD was giving him a pleading look, and Buck had to suck in a deep breath, not at all sorry when his doing so had the kid squirming. Hell, he suddenly realized, the boy hadn't even gotten to whatever trouble he'd gotten into. If Buck hadn't noticed he doubted JD would have ever said a word.

 

“Then you shoulda found something else to do, not like ya had to go skating. We talked about this JD.” Buck shook his head, some of his annoyance sliding over to make room for disappointment.

 

JD's head hung, one shoe tip worrying at the carpet, “M'sorry, Buck.” Buck squeezed the shoulder he still had a hold of, then dropped his hand to his side.

 

“What did I tell you would happen if you skated without your helmet?” His brother's head jerked up, eyes widening as he shook his head no.

 

“Buck, please, I-” Ignoring the guilty tug in his chest that JD's pleading always caused, Buck shook his head, keeping his face stern.

 

“Go get your skates out of your bag and bring them to me, JD.” JD stared at him, mouth moving through a couple of different contortions, like he was trying to find a good argument but knew there really wasn't one. “Be smart for you to do as I tell ya.” Shooting him a look that was half guilt-half glare, JD trudged over to his desk, pulled his backpack upright from where it had slumped over in his chair and slowly unzipped the top. If it hadn't been so serious, the little sigh he gave as he lifted them out of the bag and cradled them in his arms, would have been both sad and kind of funny, but as it was Buck was feeling dead serious. He got that JD didn't expect to ever be badly injured skating, that he never had been before, but that didn't make it impossible or him invincible, whatever he thought. Buck kept himself from telling his brother to hurry his butt as it took him a ridiculously long amount of time to cross the room back to him, because he was doing it, and that was good enough.

 

JD paused when he got back within reach of Buck, staring at the skates in his arms before thrusting them at Buck suddenly, like it was the only way he'd be able to do it. “Here, just take them.” Okay, the over-dramatic way he'd said that, like Buck was taking his life's work or something, was kind of funny, but he swallowed the quirk of his lips before it could ever show.

 

“Two weeks, pard. Then you can have 'em back.” JD nodded, still looking like someone had died, and with a quick squeeze to the side of the kid's arm, Buck carried the skates out and to his bedroom down the hall.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Nathan was sitting at the kitchen table sipping a glass of water when Ezra made his way in there, and he smiled a little when he saw him, nodding in hello, “Hey Ezra, how was your movie?”

 

“It was quite thoroughly enjoyable. If you are looking for a feature to watch in the near future, Ah highly recommend it.” Supposing it would be rude to take his leave so shortly after arriving, he crossed to the table and sat down in a chair that was one over from being across from Nathan.

 

“Think Rain would like it?” The older man asked curiously, and Ezra took his time considering this. He had not actually _met_ this world's Rain yet, but he doubted they were too different, as so far there had been very few, if any, significant alterations to anyone in those he knew. For half a day or so he'd been confused by the fact that Jean from Team 10 seemed to have dark brown hair rather than the light, fawn color that he remembered before his clearly overworked and somewhat frazzled brain had come to the scintillating conclusion that she'd dyed it. If he continued to toss and turn most nights he'd be of no use to anyone. Next thing he knew he'd be having a nervous breakdown over someone using colored contacts. “Ezra?”

 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts to see Nathan's raised eyebrow, a tinge of both concern and suspicion in it, Ezra smiled in response and carried on as though there hadn't been an abnormally long time between when Nathan had asked him initially and now, “Well, I'm certain it is not the most romantic film selection available, it is a superior action movie, with a rather witty dialogue and good chemistry between the various characters, that Ah think both your paramour and you would esteem.”

 

Nathan nodded consideringly, “Might have to check it out. I don't mind romance most of the time...” He chuckled a little as he trailed off and Ezra nodded. Rain was free-spirited, but certainly a romantic with it, and he knew Nathan had gone to more than one movie or play he would not have selected on his own...though, he thought, with a smile playing about his lips, he didn't actually think it bothered the medic at all, and not simply because it pleased his wife. If Rain was a romantic, Nathan was a closet version of the same thing. “Where'd JD and Buck go?”

 

Ezra averted his eyes, not quite wanting to inform on JD even if Buck was already knowledgeable of the incident. Mr. Jackson's reaction to situations where one or more of them obtained injuries that could have easily been avoided with a small portion of the common sense he was always recommending was not something anyone sane enjoyed, but while you were injured, he was also rather solicitous towards making sure one was comfortable and not put under undue stress while compromised. If one did something foolish and  _escaped_ injury by a hair, his reaction was decidedly more unpleasant, as he was unrestrained by his usual concerns-and that was in Ezra's own world. As he had yet to seriously displease the man in anyway(though the two swats over that sandwich had certainly stung), he was not entirely sure how upset he would be with JD. Of course, their continued absence had to be explained in some way....

 

“Ezra? Something wrong?” He looked up to see that Nathan had leaned forward little over the table, looking at him with exacting scrutiny. “Are you feeling okay?”

 

“Ah am perfectly fine, Ah assure you.” Now Nathan looked downright suspicious, and he shook his head at Ezra.

 

“Every time you use the words 'fine' and 'assure' in the same sentence, it assures me that things are not fine. You don't look sick. What happened?”

 

Resisting the urge to thank Nathan for informing him of this tell, so he could be sure to avoid it in the future, as that would  _not_ help, Ezra stated, doing a good job of sounding casual, “Our young friend Mr. Dunne got himself into a spot of trouble at the skate park and is discussing the particulars with Mr. Wilmington at the moment.”

 

Nathan frowned, lips pursing, then spoke, voice a bit tight, “The no helmet thing again? Buck said he'd got him to see sense on that. I don't care if the law doesn't require it for skating at his age, that boy is gonna split his skull open, if not on his damn bike, then on his roller blades.” Ezra blinked, as the realization that JD  _should_ have been wearing a helmet, and that hadn't even occurred to him, struck. Good Lord, that put his previous foolishness into a whole new light, and he had a brief thought that he hoped Buck ensured it was a long while before JD could sit comfortably and then felt abruptly guilty for it. “You got something you want to tell me?”

 

Ezra drew his eyes back from the spot on the wall behind Nathan that they'd shifted to as he'd had his discovery, and realized, somewhat to his dismay, that Nathan had clearly interpreted his guilty look as a sign of, well, guilt. “If you are speculating that Ah may have gotten into some sort of mischief of mah own, you are entirely incorrect, Mistah Jackson.”

 

Nathan considered him for another moment, than nodded affably enough, “Sure. No mischief. What about tomfoolery or shenanigans?”

 

His mouth quirking, as he realized, surprised, that Nathan was teasing him, even if there was a hint of seriousness there, Ezra shook his head, shifting back in his seat. “No, nor was there roguery or devilment on mah part eithah, that sah is mah solemn word.” Nathan chuckled, but was still looking at him expectantly as he raised his glass to take another sip. Wishing rather badly that he'd gotten a beverage for himself before retiring to the table, something with which to occupy his hands, Ezra kept his position, as though he were just relaxing and enjoying the room. He was embarrassed, and perhaps feeling some self-recrimination at his spectacularly bungled attempt to discipline JD himself, but he was fairly certain that no one would actually hold it against him as JD had not. Though, JD was the youngest, and rather a pet among them all because of it...young even for his age, really-no, that wasn't fair, or quite right, even if it had been fair...but still, there was an innocence about him that he really had no business having, after everything he'd seen on the job. The way Ezra had made him yell...

 

Nathan's eyes were still on him, that look in them that seemed to say he knew far more than he was letting on, and he'd be saying his piece on it eventually, clear as day. Ezra was saved having to say something, searching about for a topic that was of suitable neutrality, by the buzzer ringing on the stove. Standing, he said, “Buck instructed me that the meal was to be removed when the timer rang.” As he moved to turn off the oven and locate an oven mitt or hot pad with which to remove a dish that did smell both familiar and particular delightful, Ezra was puzzled to find the drawer empty. Not filled with something else, indicating their kitchen was arranged slightly differently, but simply empty.

 

“Might wanna remove it then?” Nathan said, slightly questioningly from the table.

 

Shutting the drawer, and opening the oven to at least let the heat escape, voice a shade sarcastic, Ezra said, “Ah suppose as long as you are here to provide first aid, it would not be too risky to remove the metal tray sans hot pads.”, even lowering a hand slightly, as though preparing to do just that.

 

“Not funny,” Nathan scolded as he pushed himself to his feet, “I bet you they're in the laundry, I'll-what are you doing?”

 

While opening the drawers above and below the drawer where he'd expected to find hot pads had not proved conducive to anything, the drawer next to it was filled with kitchen towels. Having removed two particularly thick and fluffy looking specimens out of these, Ezra had been in the process of folding them into jerry-rigged hot pads, when Nathan had spoken. He looked up, confused for a second, and then, realizing, said, “No need to to search the laundry, these will do nicely.” 

 

“You are not using towels to remove metal from a 350 degree oven.”

 

Bemused at Nathan's disbelieving tone, one temporary hot pad in each hand, Ezra said, “It's not as though it's something Ah haven't done before, and without acquiring burns of any variety.”

 

“I said no, Ezra.”

 

Bemusement turning quickly to annoyance, because Nathan was being ludicrous, Ezra turned and removed the casserole, moving with swiftness, so the heat he could feel through the towels didn't actual burn him and give Nathan a reason for his upset, setting it so it was balanced with each end on a burner, dropping the towels near it and turning back to face Nathan with his unburned, if slightly warm hands. He had a split second to frown, because Nathan was no longer either sitting or standing by his place at the table-and then he became aware that Nathan was standing to his side, a rather impressive frown on his face. For a large man he could move ridiculously quietly when he wanted to. Without a word Nathan reached out and took his right hand, examining it and then letting go, then doing the same with his left, Ezra not quite daring to argue against it. “Ah told you ah would not be injured.”

 

Nathan's eyes flashed, and he said, voice serious, “And I told you not to risk it. You think Buck meant for you to hurt yourself just to keep dinner from getting a little overdone?”

 

Ezra would have preferred it if the question were rhetorical, but the expectant air in Nathan's stance made it clear that it wasn't. “No, Ah certainly would not accuse Mr. Wilmington of such callousness, but seeing as no harm to mah person has occurred, Ah hardly think-”

 

“Oh, I'm sure of that. Go sit your butt at the table before I give you some incentive to think next time.” Still not quite sure why Nathan was overreacting so, Ezra decided to tread safe waters for now and returned to his seat, keeping a slightly wary eye on his friend.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

JD stood in the center of his room after Buck had left, fidgeting a little, and wishing he had something besides the familiar pictures and decorations on his walls to look at. Thinking about what he was gonna have to tell Buck, who was already really upset with him, when he got back in just a minute was not something he wanted to do at  _all_ .

 

Not having his skates for two weeks was going to suck so much, but JD had agreed to start wearing the stupid helmet (Buck had wanted him to wear wrist guards and knee-pads, elbow-pads, and everything, like he was 9 years old and putting on his blades for the first time, and so giving in to the helmet as long as he got to veto the rest of it had seemed like a good compromise. After, though, he'd been pretty sure Buck had only said he wanted him to wear all that so he'd agree to the helmet easier, but by then he couldn't really do anything about it.), and even agreed to letting stupid Buck confiscate his awesome skates if he didn't.

 

That wasn't fair. Buck wasn't stupid, and it wasn't him JD was mad at. He was mad at himself, and if anyone was stupid it was him. And he wasn't supposed to say that, the last time he had, had been all frustrated that he couldn't get his computer to find the information he needed and blurted it out, Josiah hadn't been happy, and had gone on about 'subconscious associations' and how what he'd done was the opposite of a 'positive affirmation'. JD wasn't into all the psychology stuff, but he kind of thought Josiah meant if you convinced yourself you were stupid, it didn't matter how smart you actually were. JD knew he wasn't stupid, but right now he felt pretty damn...foolish. Foolish was a good word.

 

It would have been bad enough to tell Buck what he'd done if nothing had been said about his helmet. Those kids were little brats, but he'd been the one who let himself be goaded into that stupid game of cat and mouse. Squirming a little in embarrassment, JD turned towards his bed, part of him wanting to go sit down and relax on it for whatever time he had left-and Buck would be pushing open the door any second now-only, that was where he'd be getting his butt whupped, so logically, the farther away he was from it the longer it would be before he was getting spanked. And, okay, maybe it wouldn't actually make much of a difference, since he still had to tell Buck what he'd done either way, and-crap, there went the door, opening.

 

JD gulped as Buck walked back into the room, face still serious, shuffling his feet a little as Buck came to stand in front of him, arms crossing over his chest. “So, what was it you had to tell me?”

 

This was totally going to suck.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Buck kept his face serious as he stared down at JD squirming for an answer in front of him, becoming more and more certain that he was going to hate what he had to hear. “C'mon, kid. Just tell me.”

 

JD mumbled a curse under his breath that Buck ignored, and nodded, “There were these jerk kids...it's stupid, but they kept making fun of me the whole time, calling me names and stuff 'cause I was on blades instead of a skateboard.” Buck frowned, instinctively not liking that someone had been harassing JD like that. He and the guys teased him, sure, but only they were allowed to, and Buck had a feeling this had wound up with more than teasing anyway. JD had a temper, but Buck was sure he wouldn't have lost it in a way that would get him in trouble without being challenged pretty badly. Not with kids, and JD was young enough he didn't tend to refer to other young adults as kids-didn't want to be called one himself, Buck and the others the exception there too.

 

“Sound like little shits. They do something to you?”

 

JD scuffed the carpet with his shoe again, fingers twitching in the jean pockets he'd shoved them into, not able to stand still at the best of times, and definitely not when he probably felt like he was getting the third degree. “They snuck over and stole my shoes when I was skating, so they weren't there when I went to change back to them, and then wouldn't give them back, kept saying they didn't have them, when it was _obvious_ they did. ”

 

Definitely little shits. Still, that didn't tell him what JD had done in response, and it was clear that was the main issue here. “How'd that lead to you standing here, having to confess?”

 

“Well...”, JD spoke very fast with his next words, then even faster, so they ran in a string all together, “One of them took off with them and I chased him, even when he went over into thepartoftheparkthat'sclosedforremodeling,” As Buck was still growling his displeasure over that, because what the _hell_ was that kid thinking-construction debris, and unmarked holes, and who knew what all could be over there-JD took a deep breath, then blurted out his next words so fast it took Buck a minute to understand them, “andIdroppedintoanunfinishedhalf-pipe.” JD cringed after he said it, looking up at Buck, and whatever he saw made his eyes go wide. “Uh, you know, I'm starved, think I'll-” JD moved like he was going to go around Buck and out of the bedroom, a move which Buck, snagging him by the arm before he'd got a foot, did not appreciate. He propelled JD towards his bed, the sharp swats he landed with every step guaranteeing that JD wouldn't try and fight him, or at least he'd know he'd be asking for what he got if he did, and pushed him around and down to sit on it when he got there, Buck feeling a bit of grim satisfaction with the wince he saw when the kid's butt hit his bed. Good, but the little bit of sting he was feeling now was nothing compared to what he was going to feel if Buck had heard him right.

 

“Say that last sentence again, JD, slower, and maybe add some details.” Furious as he was, Buck tried to keep his voice level, resisting the urge to pace back and forth, as he knew from past experience it freaked JD out.

 

“I dropped into the half-pipe,” it came out a miserable mumble, “and then the security guard came running up, shouting that they weren't done with it, and it might be unstable, but I didn't know Buck,” JD was pleading with him, and damn if it wasn't working a little, “I really didn't, it looked finished and stable, and the kid on the skateboard had already dropped in before me-he threw my shoes up on the other side.” Buck sighed, the kid's misery and the belated fear that was coursing through him at what could have happened making him want to tuck JD into his chest and not let go for about a million years-at which point, of course, he'd bend him over his knee and give him the blistering he definitely deserved for doing something so dangerous. “I really am sorry, Buck.”

 

“You should be.” JD's lip trembled at his words, and that was it, Buck couldn't be stern anymore, even if this was about the worst non-job related trouble JD had gotten into since he met him-and Chris handled most of the job related trouble. He moved to sit on the bed by him, wrapping his arms around him in a hug that JD pushed into. “I just don't want you to get hurt, JD.” This really was about the worst trouble the kid had gotten into. The only thing worse, and a little too similar for all it _was_ worse, was the reoccurring motorcycle thing, and he thought he'd cured JD of that before the last time-which was only a few weeks ago, not even a month yet, Buck remembered soberly. 

 

JD had had a better excuse than usual, he'd found the chin strap on his helmet was broken as he was leaving, but as Buck had explained to him in some detail, it was still better to wear it than to not wear it, or better yet-to call Buck who'd just left and would gladly have come back and picked him up. In addition to the bare butt licking he'd given him in the middle of the bull-pen, Buck had tried a suggestion of Josiah's, reheating JD's backside just a little when he'd got him home and then sitting him down at the kitchen table with a pen and paper and orders to write he wouldn't drive his bike without a helmet again a hundred times, and if he weren't such a softy he would have done the same thing the next day. Something like that wouldn't work right for this, JD wasn't in quite that much trouble, and he'd already lost his skates, but part of Buck wasn't sure just a spanking was enough either.

 

Hell, he'd just glue a damn helmet on the boy's head, that would solve the whole problem. Glad JD couldn't see the quirk of his lips, Buck squeezed him tighter, saying solemnly, “This was a big one, JD.”

 

“I know. I'm sorry.”

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

Still feeling rather nonplussed, Ezra sat at the table, waiting. He was actually rather hungry, their plans for a late lunch having been very effectively derailed by JD's misadventure, but it would be the height of rudeness to eat the meal without their hosts. Nathan came and set down across from him, looking a bit uncomfortable, and Ezra braced himself for another lecture. “Look, I...you remember when Vin burnt one of his fingerprints off trying to get that kettle off the cook fire with his damn sock?”

Ezra blinked, fighting to keep the confused frown off his face, because no, he definitely did not remember that, and even if he had been under when it happened, he was certain that would have gotten back to him. Another difference, and what was he supposed to say, when he didn't know whether 'he'd' been sitting right next to Vin, or at another location in the campsite, or possibly not even there? Before he could make up his mind, Nathan said, more to himself than to Ezra, “No, you were under with the Dangora family then... _dammit_.”

 

Still not entirely sure how to respond, Ezra struggled for something to say as his mind raced-that was over a year ago, the timeline he'd built from going through old cases reassuringly similar to the one from his original world, and he was fairly certain Vin had not caused himself such an injury there, as he'd said, there was simply no way he wouldn't have heard about it. In this world though, it was conceivable that he might have been in the dark, as after punishment certain incidents were considered over and done with and not to be brought up again. Ezra had, while he and Vin were teasing Buck over being given a very cold shoulder by one of the lab technicians, brought up an incident where he'd accidentally gotten the ire up of an important witness, something that, once he was no longer on Chris's shit list, the entire team had given him grief for many times. Buck had looked uncertain for a bit, long enough for Ezra to freeze, but then chuckled and rolled his eyes, and the brief fear he'd felt after the sentence had left his mouth, that he had just tried to remind the man of an event that had never taken place, had vanished-in time for Chris to clear his throat meaningfully from behind him. When Ezra had turned around, knowing he'd erred in some way, but not sure how, Chris had said quietly, 'Buck paid for that, and asked for it to be dropped after. So, drop it.' The man hadn't so much seemed displeased as just surprised he'd had to say it, and Ezra had felt a tinge of guilt, despite the fact that he'd had no way to know-as though certain of Mr. Larabee's expressions simply engineered a specific type of response in him. “Ezra? Did you hear what I said?”

 

Seeing that Nathan was once again looking at him with open concern, this time no suspicion in it, and realizing that he had indeed not heard what he said, Ezra shook his head and smiled slightly, “Ah suppose Ah am still boggling ovah the sock information-you are referring to one of the usual variety, thin, and with toes forevah poking out of them? Were there perhaps copious amounts of whiskey involved?” Nathan snorted and nodded his head.

 

“Something like that. Pretty sure his damn finger went through one of those holes straight onto the metal. And I had stuff to treat it, sure, but it still wasn't fun, trying to treat a nasty burn out in the woods, especially when we'd all been drinking, and, well...guess I'm a little paranoid now.” Ezra suppressed a blink as he realized to his surprise that Mr. Jackson was, well, not exactly apologizing, but elucidating on his overreaction, which was close enough for the proud man. “Worst part was, I sat right there while he did it, told him to stop, but didn't make him.”

 

Quietly, feeling both strangely touched and not a little reassured that Nathan's overprotective tendencies didn't actually extend quite so far as he'd begun to think, Ezra nodded, “Ah think Ah understand what you are getting at, Mr. Jackson. Ah do feel the need to tell you that if Ah had somehow injured mahself, it would have been mah fault alone.”

 

“Hell, I know that, doesn't mean that I'm not gonna try and stop you from being stupid if I can. Still, I'll admit today was a false alarm.” There was an easy grin of the kind that had been reserved for everyone but him once, back at the formation of the team, and sometimes Ezra thought he forgot how long ago, how distant that time truly was, but that grin, the spark of teasing in it that was once an impossibility, reminded him every time.

 

Strangely as his mind reminded him again-as though he could have forgotten-that this was not his Nathan, Ezra found he wasn't bothered, that he had no doubt that this was true in both universes. He opened his mouth, only to find his quip quite flew out of his head as he saw a miserable looking JD shuffle into the kitchen, head down and moving single-mindedly towards the kitchen counter, opening a drawer and extracting a large rubber spatula when he reached it, Ezra wincing in sympathy as he realized its intent. The young man turned around and trudged slowly back the way he came, still silent, and as he passed back through the doorway, Buck popped up in it, his usual exuberance replaced with a solemnity that made Ezra feel somehow an intruder, “You fellas go ahead and eat, we're gonna be a minute and there ain't no sense in letting it get cold.” Turning his back, Buck strode forward and wrapped an arm snugly around JD's shoulders, tucking him into his side for the walk back to his bedroom.

 

“JD'll be fine.” Ezra nodded his head, pushing away his wish that he could somehow have prevented the entire fiasco and turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

 

“Ah'm sure he will be. Shall we partake in the delectable meal that has been left for us?” He wasn't quite as hungry as he had been, but he should eat something and it would give them away to occupy themselves for awhile.

 

“Sounds good to me,” Nathan said with a shrug, pushing himself back from the table, and heading towards the cupboard that would-hopefully-contain clean plates, Ezra following suit.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Buck had to stifle a heartfelt sigh as he reached next to him for the rubber spatula. JD's butt was a uniform bright pink, quickly approaching red, and he was already pleading with him to stop, promising ridiculous things, like being good forever and wearing a helmet every time he left the apartment, voice thick with tears, but Buck had told him he was getting the second half of his tanning with the spatula, and he meant it. Tightening the arm he had around JD's middle to hold him in place, he murmured just loud enough to be heard, “Halfway through, kid.”

 

“ _Nooooo,”_ JD moaned it, Buck not sure if it was because he knew the halfway mark meant the start of the spatula, or he was just protesting that it wasn't over, but either way he just said,

 

“Yep,” and brought the flat tongue of the spatula down with a splat on the highest point of JD's backside, first one cheek then the other, and then began peppering him with sharp stinging slaps every which way. JD twisted and turned, yelping and yipping with gusto now, but that only meant Buck didn't have to worry about smacking in the same place too many times, just brought the spatula down on the parts of his brother's butt that were in range at that moment. JD was going to learn not to take foolish risks with his life, especially over a pair of twenty dollar knock-off converse. His backside was moving quickly from bright pink to dark pink with splotchy patches of red, and the yips and yelps were starting to turn into sobs, but as Buck moved the spatula down to make sure the tops of his thighs were stinging as much as his backside, he knew that he wasn't going to stop until JD's butt was shiny red.

 

“Buck, ple-assse,” Buck had to clench his jaw at the almost desperate way JD said his name, “I won't, I won't...”, his sentence trailing off as his sobs increased, JD shoving his head down into his blankets as he started to all-out wail.

 

“I know you won't, pard. Almost done.” Bringing the spatula down in one more quick round that covered each cheek liberally, the backside over his knee looking like a paint match for a firetruck when he was done, Buck tossed the implement away, it landing with a muffled sound on the carpet. As soon as it was gone he flipped JD over in his arms, tilting him so his backside was sideways, hanging in the air instead of pressing into Buck's thighs and just squeezing him tight, pressing his lips to the top of JD's head as the boy clung to him like a limpet, his stocky body somehow seeming to cover Buck's almost entirely as he plastered himself to him.

 

“I'm _sorrrrry...._ so.... _sorry._ ” JD was sobbing to the point that Buck was half-sure he was going to need a new shirt, and he just kept squeezing him.

 

“I know you are, kid...It's okay...all done now, and except for your skates you ain't in trouble anymore.” JD turned a little, moving so he could press his face into Buck's neck instead of his shoulder, just crying for a minute and Buck let him, rocking a little, and saying soothing nonsense, that he'd been brave to come clean, that he was a good kid, things like that, and fixing the kid's pants before he had time to get embarrassed. Giving the kid a few whacks, or even a normal spanking was just par for the course, a boy JD's age, he was going to get himself into trouble, but having to be this hard on him he hated. He'd told his old CO more than once that that old 'it hurts me more than you' bull was pure garbage, but times like this he got where the man had been coming from. Still wasn't sure he agreed with him, but he got where he was coming from, cause that had plain sucked.

 

JD's head shifted back, and he said, voice hushed and rough from crying, “Buck?”

 

“Yeah, kid?” JD always did that when he'd been spanked to tears, would revert to that little kid mode of having to say someone's name before actually talking, or when he was sick.

 

“You mad?”

 

Buck squeezed him a little tighter for just a second before he spoke, “Nope. I won't lie and say I wasn't pissed when you told me, because I was. But, you know I don't stay mad once you've had your licking. Not ever.”

 

He felt JD's head nod, before a quiet, more relaxed, “'Kay,” left him. Then, “Buck?”

 

“Uh-huh?”

 

“What's for dinner?” Buck had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. That boy was liable to eat them out of house and home one of these days.

 

“Spaghetti pie. You want to go eat?”

 

“Yeah.” For all he said it, JD didn't seem to be in any too big a hurry to move and Buck finally started moving, shifting JD around so that his feet were on the ground before he stood and keeping a good hold on him until he was steady, and pulled himself away. Stayed awful close, though, and Buck slung an arm around his shoulders, loose, then tighter when JD pushed into him just a little.

 

“Then we better get out there before Ezra and Nathan eat it all.”

 


End file.
